The Unsuspected Prisoner
by esLaSH
Summary: A story of the 61st millennium. Atlas, Lance, and Vivo just want to go on vacation in a flying, self-aware skyscraper. But why do they have a military escort? And what menace lurks in the dimensions between time? When the unthinkable happens, they find themselves trapped with a deadly team of superhuman killers...
1. Skyfall

_Disclaimer: All Warhammer 40,000 and Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha concepts belong to their respective owners. No challenge is intended._

* * *

**1: Skyfall**

* * *

The golden youth furrowed his brow. Something was wrong.

His escorts stood to either side, confident and unworried. Beyond them, he knew there was a security cordon making its way through the promenade. And high above, in the blackness of space, a pair of cruise titans drifted like calm and apocalyptic stars, their planet-wrecking arsenal inactive, their mechanical intellects content to watch and assure his safety.

He thought it was a bit disproportionate, but he knew it made the adults feel happier if he was safe. Some were afraid of bad, ambitious people trying to use him. Others were simply afraid for his own sake.

But something was still amiss.

"Can I have an icecream?" he asked.

The escort to his left looked down. He was taller than most humans, golden-skinned and ink-haired, with broad cheekbones and eyes like augers. He wore a black military singlet and a short-sleeved white longcoat with long tails, gathered in at the waist. Something in his muscular bearing spoke of an absolute self-confidence. This man would die before even considering surrender.

"That is a great idea! Can we have an icecream, Lance?"

The third member of the trio stifled a sigh. He had a lot of practice at this. Of lesser height, he nevertheless possessed a raw-boned soldier's physique and ever-ranging eye. His hair was copper and held in braids; he wore a sleek black bodysuit and an identical white longcoat.

"No, Atlas. Stop giving Vivo ideas. Seriously, did either of you two knuckleheads even consult your Intelligence?"

"I did," said the golden youth earnestly. "I think something's wrong. Tell them, Sacred Heart."

"Yes sir," said the ball floating by his side. "I am unable to tap the local nutritional teleportarium. I am not certain there is any icecream, or any food at all. This is entirely outside my experience and warrants urgent investigation."

Lance sighed again and went down on one knee. "Vivo, Sacred Heart, you both have a lot to learn about the galaxy. You were born in celestial space, where the Warp is at its calmest and the Star Gods reign in person. Do you know what infrastructure is?"

Vivo concentrated. "Is it the way people work together to make sure everybody has what they need?"

Lance smiled. Every time he met the child he was surprised by some new wisdom. "Very good. Work together, yes. Well, in celestial space, we can run our infrastructure through free-form psitek because it's safe. We use teleporters and networked thought-forms powered by mass consensus. At home, if you want an icecream, you think about it and the infrastructure advises you if you need it, and if you really need one it forms it out of nutrient streams teleported through the Warp.

"But we're going on holiday to Enjyat in the Grelm systems. Your papa Gar helped clean up this place a few years ago, remember? Now, what do you suppose that means for the infrastructure?"

Vivo screwed up his face in a look of utmost focus. "If we came out of celestial space, that means we're in the Contested Warp, the Galactic Community. The teachings in school said that it was still mostly stable, but that you had to be extra careful, because there are still wild daemons out there – out here. And that means," he took a breath, "using the Immaterium for infrastructure would be unsafe, and I might get something a lot more dangerous than just icecream."

"Good boy," said Lance, unable to resist the urge to ruffle the lad's hair.

"So does that mean no icecream?" said Atlas.

Lance stood up. "Honestly, you are incorrigible."

"It's my metabolism. I get hungry fast."

"Then I guess Mach has already picked out the nearest confection trader."

Atlas patted the blue gem at his throat with satisfaction. "He says there are seven within the spaceport and has identified multiple routes toward the potential objectives, using combinations of pedestrian and augmented transit. It is feasible to have icecream within forty-five seconds of mission commencement."

"You are frighteningly single-minded sometimes."

"But I'm hungry!"

"You're taking Vivo's side, that's what you are. Well it won't work because he loves me best, don't you, squirt?"

Vivo looked seriously at the two men. "You're both great friends for grown-ups, but I think you love each other more than me."

Lance opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. Atlas took the opportunity to grab him in a bear hug. "It's true, old buddy. It's been too long since the old unit broke up."

"All right, all right, keep your hands to yourself. Company."

Atlas was suddenly and casually in front of Vivo. Twenty steps away, a pair of nondescript bystanders were equally casually standing between the group and an approaching entourage.

Two of the people approaching were either xenos or profoundly posthuman. They moved on four long, bladed legs, body low in the centre concealed in crimson wrappings. Multiple eyes glittered beneath runic hoods. A nest of chitinous hands clasped and stretched below the body. The deadly major limbs were tipped in yellow-striped hazard seals.

The third person was clearly in charge. His gesture stopped the hulking creatures in an instant as he surveyed the travellers. He too wore crimson robes in an unfamiliar and voluminous cut. Glittering runes flickered across the cloth surface. His shoulders were decorated with ropes of gold and black iron. An eight-pointed star was tattooed sanguine on his shaven head; the rings on his fingers were uncomfortable to look upon, and he held a cane which turned many unique angles along its length. His eyes seemed lazy, but always met an onlooker's glance for an instant.

"Well, well," he said. His voice was practised and easily audible at a distance. "Such a coincidence, that I should be out walking and encounter such a personage. Do I have the honour of addressing one Vivo Urban, bearer of Sacred Heart?"

Vivo looked at Lance, who in turn was looking in all directions but at the newcomer.

"You don't have to answer," he said quietly.

"Ah, but I am forgetting my manners," said the newcomer brightly. "I am Expositor Niva, Imperial Archaeological Compliance Oversight, 73rd Detached Coordination Department. It is a pleasure to meet someone of such standing."

"Pleased to meet you," said Vivo, reasoning that this was not giving anything away.

Niva laughed. "And well mannered, too! A pleasure indeed, indeed." He turned his head a fraction of an inch. "Gentle greetings to your guardians. Do I address Strike Magus Atlas Solomon bearing the esteemed Mach Caliber?"

Atlas didn't move. "You're behind the times, Expositor. I'm a civilian Search and Rescue specialist now. Got nothing to do with military rank."

"Yes, of course you don't, of course. Which must mean you are in the company of, ah, Investigator Lance Maxim (detached service) and your devious companion device Cross Mirage, currently on annual leave from the Commonwealth Internal Affairs department of something no doubt highly significant. Tell me, Investigator, how did you come by such an astonishingly suitable name? It always struck me that such nomenclature would destine one for a life fighting crime, whether you wished it or no."

"You must have an excellent news service," said Lance tightly.

"Oh, we make do, we make do. There are so many people running around in this galaxy, we sometimes have to write it down to keep it all straight."

"You would need a lot of pages," said Vivo. "My teachings say that there are over two hundred and seventy thousand travellers per spaceport per day on average. And there are a lot of spaceports on every planet, and I'm certain there are a lot more planets-"

Niva laughed again. "The boy is genuinely delightful," he said. "Our news service does keep us up to date, but sometimes one finds new truths when one takes the time to look with one's own eyes. I should have expected no less from that auspicious genome. Lad, you are a treasure. I am inclined to indulge you before I continue on my stroll – ask a question of me and I shall answer it truthfully."

"As if we'd trust anything you told us," said Lance, at the same time that Vivo said,

"What's an Expositor?"

Lance gave the strong impression of rolling his eyes.

Niva stroked his chin. "You know, that is an excellent question. Most of my job is, shall we say, implicit. But I suppose it boils down to three main duties.

"First, I find and report on truths, some of which are more obstinate in their revelation than others.

"Second, when reality and truth do not agree, I work to make the truth more apparent, for this is often necessary in the functioning of our society.

"And third, when the Imperium suffers unjustly, I bring the gift of resolution to its enemies. But you mustn't tell anyone, because it's supposed to be a secret."

"I'm not sure you're doing very well at keeping that secret," said Vivo.

"You see? An absolute treasure," said Niva, and took a step back from the security cordon. "I am so glad we had this little chat. Such a fortunate encounter."

He strolled away, cane clicking on the marble of the promenade. The blade-limbed escorts swivelled smoothly and followed after a moment. A security officer summoned a casting screen and started talking urgently into it.

"What was that?" hissed Lance the moment the party was out of sight. "What's a Chaos Expositor doing on Enjyat?"

"Hold on." Atlas listened to an internal voice. "Our local guide is incoming, on a priority route off the main pedestrian speedway. She says it's not as bad as it sounds. We'll debrief when we're in a more secure space."

"Good, I want to get out of here as soon as possible. And Vivo-"

"I didn't trust him, not at all," said the boy. "What's an Expositor, really?"

Lance grimaced. "It's more or less what he said. But you've got to be careful, because he's an expert at twisting things around. He talked a lot about the truth, but he doesn't really care about that.

"When the Imperium sends an Expositor to find an answer, they'll do anything to get it. They don't care if they... hurt people along the way so long as they get that answer. And sometimes the Imperium wants an answer that isn't true, and they have to hurt people until they start telling the right lies. And everybody knows it. The Imperium claims that fear will bring obedience.

"That's what he wanted to do right now: scare us. Even when he was telling the truth, he wasn't telling it plain, pretending he hadn't spent hours reading up on our files before we arrived. He knows we know, but he doesn't care. Above all else, his job is to lie."


	2. In Transit

_Disclaimer: All Warhammer 40,000 and Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha concepts belong to their respective owners. No challenge is intended._

* * *

**2: In Transit**

* * *

The guide was a woman in Commonwealth fatigues, brown tunic and leggings. "Gian Amber, assistant to the Director of the Economic Integration Office for equatorial Enjyat. I'm so sorry you ran into the Compliance team, I'll tell you all about it when we're in the aircar."

The vehicle was largely transparent, except for the artificial fur of the floor and seats. Having descended to the planet's surface, they now had to travel upwards to reach their next destination. The undercover security detail departed, leaving Vivo, Atlas and Lance in Gian's hands.

Departing the terminal, the scope of the spaceport became apparent. The promenade formed a circle half a kilometre across around a vertical core. From the upper limit, aircars moved in and out at a steady rate. At the lower end, a tangle of pedestrian speedways spread out and merged with the larger highways of the city far below.

The rim of the promenade was lined with docks and berths. Static light displays projected onto the air guided ships one way, aircars another. The runabout the travellers had taken from orbit was disengaging. Most ships were of local make, reactionless velocity pods running along the sides of heavy-plated modules in a panoply of colours. Their like could be seen all across the galactic community. The runabout was clearly different, a single sleek shell with jagged symmetries: as it lifted out of its berth, delicate lines of psi energy traced the shape of lightning wings. The ship vanished upward in a distant thunderclap.

On the other side of the promenade hung another ship, clearly just as foreign. It was too big to fit in a berth and hovered on a dull glow beside an umbilical dock. Its hull too was swept back in the form of a seashell, but where the Commonwealth runabout was smooth and understated, this dark ship seemed to revel in baroque spines and bristles. Openings in its outer hull and a series of running lights glowed red. It wasn't hard to identify the ship's owner.

"That's the _Nightmare Lacuna_," said Gian. "She's a Chaos Imperium diplomatic vessel, the equivalent of our Light Coordinator Frigates. That's where Expositor Niva holds court. Frankly we were hoping he'd stay there, but he must have got wind of your arrival."

"Did you consider arranging an alternate landing site?" asked Lance. With increased altitude he could see the additional rings of the spaceport coming into view: three more spaced along a great semicircle, with the framework of another half-completed passing below. The system was over ten kilometers wide, arranged around the perspective-defying column of an orbital anchor that vanished into the sky overhead.

"Very sorry, sir. We didn't think we could guarantee security on the beanstalk, as even express transit takes three hours. We've been working on installing up-to-date inertial compensators that could cut the journey to geostat down to forty minutes, but the local industrial economy just isn't up to Commonwealth standards yet. And we did look at bringing the runabout in at one of the cargo rings, but the cost of interrupting the export haulers would be immense.

"We thought we could get you through the civilian spaceport without incident. I apologise that this was not the case, and hope the rest of your tour will be more enjoyable."

"Appreciated," said Lance. "And no harm done; I think he just wanted to spook us. I can't imagine why he'd play his hand so early if he wanted to spring anything dangerous."

Below, the spaceport had given way to a sprawl of transit systems, the usual impossible tangle of rails and speedways and facilities that sprang up around focuses of planetary-scale economy. The lines of transport diffused into the horizon. In the direction they were traveling, that horizon was the artificial sweep of a city piled kilometres deep. Thousands of years of deliberate meteorological planning and optimisation had shaped gracious canyons deep into the sprawl. Rivers and gardens glittered in the depths through a haze of mist; the clouds of morning still clung to the alabaster flanks of the upper city.

On the far side of the spaceport and orbital anchor, receding into the distance, a fresh tangle formed brief skeins and alliances as the ways aligned on another hub, the impossibly huge shape of a corridor terminal that linked the world of Enjyat directly to the other seven members of the Realm Glorious. The terminal was a mere extrusion of an Astronomican on the capitol world light-years away, a navigational beacon that dwarfed this peripheral component, but it was still big enough to overwhelm the eye, a peak ten kilometers tall. Whole glaciers had formed on its flanks, and snowmelt fed many of the rivers that flowed through the city below.

"It's huge," said Vivo, plastered against the window. Atlas hadn't bothered to chide the boy. Even if the car's redundant safety systems failed all at once, the boy was flight-capable, and the magus would be better occupied trying to bring the other passengers to the ground safely. "Is that where papa fought the Angel?"

"That's right, kid," said Atlas. "Gar and Vitus went in there and opened up the whole corridor complex for trade. Wow, look at all the transport lines going into it! There must be millions of people using the corridors now!"

"Interplanetary trade is up 20% this quarter alone," said Gian proudly. "The Economic Integration Office is largely present in an oversight capacity. Local entrepreneurship is doing the real development. We do some work in rooting out corruption, of course, and matching local industry with potential markets in the greater Commonwealth. The financial district," and she pointed to a mist-wreathed city-spire slowly revolving past the aircar, "is ecstatic. Some of the banks have had to expand their vaults twice just to store physical currency for secure transactions!"

"What's physical currency?" said Vivo, watching the financial spire recede into the haze of atmosphere.

"I'm glad you asked! Economic policy is largely promissory in nature, relying on credit to drive speculation and market expansion. But sometimes it's necessary to settle a debt immediately and unambiguously, or make an anonymous payment. We'd rather they didn't – it tends to lead to under-the-table deals and corruption – but it helps keep the economy moving.

"And so the various galactic trade houses mint physical currency, actual coins and crystals. They're quite beautiful, and they represent, oh, several percent of the entire planet's expanding wealth. We couldn't have anybody walking off with that, so local firms like Cleave Reno have been buying heavy equipment in droves to build extended vaults to store all the treasure. It's a wonderful form of economic stimulus – the new jobs create new jobs just to keep up!"

Vivo clearly had no idea what she meant by any of this.

Lance cleared his throat.

"Is that why the Expositor's here? The Chaos Imperium must be kicking themselves, losing that much wealth over a navigation squabble." The world of Enjyat and the rest of the Realm Glorious under House Grelm had once been an Imperial territory, but after a political conflict cut them off from internal trade, the House had chosen to cast its lot with the Commonwealth.

"No, actually. The Realm is positioned squarely on ancient Commonwealth trade routes; the only advantage the Imperium got from its occupation was denial of our own transport. I don't think Niva's embassy has any revanchist motivation.

"The Expositor is here because we invited him."

"You what?" said Lance and Atlas simultaneously.

Gian spread her hands. "It was the decision of the Justice Integration Office, the EIO had nothing to do with it. And the JIO inherited the whole mess from some obscure archaeological directorate. I'm sure I've got the exact directive in my documents..."

Lance leaned back. "That's alright, it wouldn't be the first time JIO directives have made odd choices on a new member world. What cause did they give for bringing in a foreign political officer?"

"It's an extradition case. Well, a series of cases, really. Expositor Niva is here to take custody of Imperial citizens that aren't vassals of House Grelm administration or requesting political asylum. Foreign nationals left over from the occupation."

"I thought the Imperial occupation would have withdrawn all significant personnel before the Commonwealth even arrived in the sector," said Lance. "Any overstayers would be civilians, and should be handled through normal deportation systems, not Archaeological Compliance Oversight."

"The Imperials withdrew in good order, but they left behind a very unusual prison here on Enjyat. For various reasons it wasn't practical to liberate the prisoners until now."

"That must be a very strange prison."

"Oh, it really is. In fact, our tour is scheduled to take us past the excavation site as we leave the city. It may be more efficient to simply show you. Some of the condensation phenomena are exquisite, in a sort of horrible way. I believe we have some examples on exhibition in the foyer at Eifast Stratoblock."

At that moment the aircar crested the upper lip of the city and arced out into open space.

Enjyat was a cooling world. From orbit the travellers had remarked on icecaps extending halfway to the equatorial settlements. Those icecaps had swallowed much of the surface water, leaving vast stretches of equatorial seabed exposed.

Close to the planet's surface now, they stared out at the vast white emptiness of a salt flat that stretched beyond the horizon, criss-crossed only by the occasional lonely superhighway. A few lonely beacons stood, shadowless in equatorial sun. Everywhere else was nothing.

"Magnificent, isn't it?" Gian beamed with the pride of an explorer sharing a new discovery. "This is the West Beckseesha. It goes for nearly two thousand kilometres before it hits a mountain range and then the ocean. Surface winds can reach two hundred kilometres per hour and the salt storms sometimes form clouds four kilometres tall, but the terrain is perfectly suited for crystallisation accelerators and other industrial facilities under proper protection. We'll be joining a city migration on the stratoblock out to the spaceport at Syitaille." She gestured at the glittering strand of another orbital elevator rising from beyond the horizon. "I assure you, the scenery is astounding. You've never seen anything like a sunset rainbow reflected in the salt pans."

"It sounds amazing," said Vivo.

"I hope you think so!" said Gian eagerly. "Look, we're coming up on the stratoblock now. We'll get you settled in, and then we can leave Expositor Niva behind for good. I'm sure he won't bother you again."

The aircar banked and circled up towards the foundations of Eifast Stratoblock.


	3. Stratoblock

_Disclaimer: All Warhammer 40,000 and Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha concepts belong to their respective owners. No challenge is intended._

* * *

**3: Stratoblock**

* * *

Eifast was a free-floating building, eight hundred metres tall and three hundred wide at its broadest. Its structure was irregular with purpose. The central shaft was ringed top and bottom with the busy facades of apartments jutting out into the sky, with a single smooth window covering half the central shaft. Patches of black swam across the surface, photoelectric modes chasing sunlight.

Marble carvings around the foundations depicted heroic figures directing machines to various tasks. Towering above them, surrounded by stack upon stack of windows and balconies, was a mighty statue holding aloft a half geode, winking panes of real crystal catching the sunlight edge-on. It doubled as the building's main antenna.

There were a half dozen other stratoblocks at the same altitude. They were to join Eifast on its migration to Syitaille.

The aircar entered the building's central shaft from the top and deposited the travellers at a docking ring. Inside, Eifast was appointed in Enjyat style, smooth ivory walls traced with mirrored arabesques, floors black carpet that hushed as it self-cleaned. Gian greeted the building.

"Eifast, I'm back. These are the VIPs we were expecting. Is their suite ready?"

A pattern of arabesques flashed crystal fire on the wall. "Absolutely, Gian. Welcome back. I hope you had a pleasant voyage." The building had a contralto voice with just a hint of the clipped Imperial accent.

"Um, you could say that. I'm sure it will be alright. Here, let me introduce you." She indicated the three travellers and their accompanying Intelligences. Gian herself did not bear a device, but this was not unusual. The companions were precision technology, rare and precious.

"I'm excited to meet you," said Eifast, directing the carpet to carry them towards an elevator bank. "I've never met people from the celestial worlds before! I'm sure I'll seem awfully rustic – I'm mostly a fixed structure, not like the wonderful changing buildings you must be used to."

"Hey, it's alright," said Atlas. He was attempting to carry three suitcases at once and mostly succeeding. "Lance and me're military recruits to the Orders, not native celestials. This place reminds me of home more than any tower of light and gold."

Vivo nodded. "I like it. I understand you don't have the infrastructure for more, but I'm sure if you did you'd be most obliging. I'm pleased to be staying with you."

"Thank you," said the building. The elevator capsule, secure in a bubble of isolated gravity, swept down the internal illumination shaft. "I'm sorry, I get nervous sometimes. I really hope you enjoy your stay."

Outside they could see the internal structure of the block. The shaft was lined with balconies and mirrored windows along one side, with the enormous scenic window that filled half the tower on the other. Chrome surfaces propagated light right to the top, and mid-morning shadows fell across a series of park levels. At the distant bottom a pool glittered amidst greenery.

Their suite was on the eighty-seventh floor, at the top (said Eifast helpfully) of the six floors rented by the Economic Integration Office. A lot of business was done out of Eifast. Intercontinental corporations and trade houses took advantage of the block's slow transit around the Equator to catch up with regional managers in person. Cleave Reno in the upper layers had paid to install the new communication antenna, and United Composite Materiel supervised their entire logistics backbone from a suite near the lake level.

"And here is your suite," it finished, with a flourish of colour around a sliding door marked with a black stripe. "If you will be so kind as to key your Intelligences to the mechanism – I cannot control the interior of your suite for privacy reasons, you see, and I can only open the door as part of emergency protocol for the entire floor. Ah, Master Urban, should you be-?"

Vivo looked up from the channel of psi energy he was directing into the door. "It's alright," he said. "I had to get out of a place before and it was really hard, because there were bad people, so my family wants me to take responsibility for my own safety."

"Wow," said the building in a tone that was half shocked and half thrilled. "That sounds really cool."

"It wasn't," said Vivo. The door opened and he went into the suite.

Atlas put down the suitcases and went in after him, not quite running.

Gian looked from the door to Lance and back again.

"Oh," said Eifast. "Was that the wrong thing to say?"

Lance frowned. "Officer Amber. What's the building's Commonwealth security clearance?"

"Security? Um, hold on." Gian waved her hand across a virtual interface. "EIO assessment clears her for level 2, provisional level 4. I'm cleared for level 4 myself."

The man nodded. "This isn't a big secret, but certain details are classified, pending ongoing investigation, protection of involved parties, and so on. This is need-to-know only, level 1, got it?"

Gian nodded. The building gave a hum of acquiescence.

"Alright. A few years back there was an incident in inner Commonwealth space. There was some combat, and a number of government officials were indicted in criminal collusion. The affair revolved around a series of illegal human experiments.

"Vivo was the last of the experiments. There was an ancient control system... they needed a genetic match for the pilot. An ancestral psyker genome reconstructed from relics. They put control systems in his brain and ignored him until they needed to plug him in."

"Oh no," said the building softly.

"Somehow he got out and our side picked him up. A pair of our commanders adopted the kid and he's shaping up fine – better than fine if I'm being honest. He's brave, quick-thinking, and just as kind as his parents. I've known good soldiers who would be less use in a crisis. He just doesn't like to talk about it much."

"I do hope I haven't offended him," said Eifast. "I was so looking forward to conversation."

Atlas stuck his head out of the suite. "He's OK. Went to unpack in his bedroom, now he's playing catch with Sacred Heart. I think he's just looking forward to the holiday."

Gian brightened. "Why not show them around your museum? I was telling them about the extraction procedure on the way in, but they simply must see them, they're fascinating objects."

The hallway sparkled. "Oh, I'd love that. Atlas, Lance, would you like to see my exhibition of condensation artifacts? The Anchorage will be doing another extraction in a few hours, and I'd like to show you some of how it's done before the streamcast starts."

"People have mentioned condensation artifacts twice now," said Lance. "I'd like to know what's going on, and what it has to do with our visitor back at the spaceport."

"Splendid!" said Gian, and clapped her hands. "Let's get your luggage stowed, and we'll show you the border of the Implacabium."


	4. The Anchorage

_Disclaimer: All Warhammer 40,000 and Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha concepts belong to their respective owners. No challenge is intended._

* * *

**4: The Anchorage**

* * *

The museum occupied a plaza on Eifast's twenty-sixth level, at the very base of the vast window that lit the interior shaft and parkland. The view without was slowly rotating as the stratoblock drifted out across the West Beckseesha salt flats, lagging behind the planet's rotation. A highway glittered metal kilometres below.

A handful of residents clustered by the window or wandered among the pedestals, chatting quietly. The travellers stepped off the pedestrian speedway that ringed the level, preceded by a trio of EIO security guards trying to look unobtrusive.

"We live in the Materium, of course," said Gian. "Even stone-age cultures recognise that there's something else out there, the Immaterium or Warp. It's easy to believe that the two form the whole system, two sides of the same existential struggle. And that's almost the whole truth."

Eifast continued eagerly. "But that's not all. There are other modes of being, other layers, hierarchies and all sorts. I don't really know the full story, I'm not a physicist. But I do pay attention to the bits concerning the Implacabium."

Atlas nodded. "Ah, I've heard of that. A parameter? Some sort of constant the Navigators use to calibrate Warp drives."

"Not exactly," said the building. "The Implacabium is another plane of reality, like this one or the Warp. It's just... it's not very good at anything. It doesn't have any dimensions. Not only does nothing happen there, you can't even fit anything into it. It just sits there being nothing.

"But you can push things close to its borders. As I understand it, if you get near enough, time basically stops. There's a sort of pressure for things to return to the Materium, but you can put a capstone or anchor in its point of return to keep it there."

"I suppose you could use it for suspension," said Lance thoughtfully. He was at home in discussions of confinement. "But why bother, when we've got cheap stasis generators?"

"Well there's no power drain with an Implacabium anchor," said Eifast. "But you're right, stasis generators are better. You see, it's not just time that you lose as you approach the border. If you go too far, you lose space as well."

"That does not sound comfortable."

Eifast highlighted one of the display pedestals. "The results can actually be interesting, even beautiful, when applied to physical objects. This is a fragment of sarcophagus that underwent limited dimensional failure. Look, you can see macroscopic scarring. This cratering is the result of localised failures, pushing the matter out into more stable space. As the fragment returned to the Materium, the resultant pressure created intense heat, causing the surface of the scars to melt and crystallise. Isn't it pretty?"

The object was a shard of metal the length of an arm. Parts of the surface were hard-worn and pitted with rust. But toward one end the metal gave way to a pattern of perfectly smooth red holes, as though negative spheres had dipped into the form and left their mark. The holes glimmered with an unusual light.

"That's weird," said Vivo. "All the jewels I've seen glittered, but these just shine from all angles. Why does it do that?"

"The crystal was formed along an event horizon," said Eifast rapturously from the pedestal. "It couldn't form a normal crystal structure along however many axes it wanted, so it made this spherical layer instead. There's nothing in the natural universe that looks quite the same.

"And that's not all! Look at this – a complete one-dimensional failure!"

Eifast had clearly been amassing its collection for months. It had several square centimetres of swimming green-blue crystal, barely visible even under light, held in a special field to preserve its atom-thick structure. It brought large magnification lenses to bear on microscopic fibres that glittered end-to-end and cast light at odd angles. Even Lance found himself impressed by the intricate and unique patterns that emerged from Implacabium exposure.

But this meant something. "So I guess this means there's an Implacabium projector here on Enjyat, right? Do they use it in the crystallisation plants?"

"There's no projector," said Gian. "At least, not on Enjyat or anywhere in the Realm Glorious. And they certainly don't use it in industry. This gets down to the reason we called in Expositor Niva.

"When Emperor Tartaros 18 commanded the Loyalist Astartes to annex the Realm seven hundred years ago, they brought trophies with them. And for some reason they left them behind.

"Those trophies were living people, locked in the Implacabium."

"Starchild," murmured Atlas involuntarily.

"The prisoners belong to a range of historical periods," continued Eifast. "A few are prisoners of war, but most are political enemies of the Loyalist Chapters. After so long it's amazing that any are still alive... but we have to find out."

"And that's where the Expositor comes in. The Commonwealth can't justify holding foreign political prisoners – it's illegal and highly unethical. We need to bring them out, those that haven't been completely eroded by Implacabium exposure, and if they don't want to stay or we don't want them, we render them into Niva's custody."

"That actually makes sense to me," said Atlas.

"It's pretty straightforward, as I understand the process," said Gian. "The prisoners are held under a series of capstones laid out on the salt flats. Each capstone is inscribed with details in a variety of ancient dialects, which in most cases we've been able to reconcile with Niva's records, so we can extract them in order and have resources to hand for individual cases. Some of them are so old they have difficulty understanding galactic language, or require unusual sustenance. If they're still alive down there – and that's often the case – we can give them proper care and legal representation, whether they choose asylum or extradition."

There was a faint noise from Atlas' direction.

"Ah, sorry," he said abashedly. "That was me. Did I mention I have an active metabolism?"

"I have a snack bar two doors down," said Eifast. "I'll send a personality fragment to escort you."

"Do you have pancakes?"

"I'll do you one better – waffles with Syitaille palm syrup. The crop contains trace caffeination." The block's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper.

"I'll be right back," said the big man, and stepped lively after a glitter in the walls.

"Honestly," said Lance. "I think his brain turned off the split second he realised food was more relevant than Niva. I'm actually interested in this whole extraction process. I'm gathering from these artifacts that failure is commonplace in the prison."

"Sadly that's true," said Gian. "About half the cases have some degree of condensation, and it's mostly fatal. It seems the Loyalists regarded this as part of the appeal."

"And there's no way to tell before extraction," said the building. "You could get a perfectly healthy individual, or they could have been compacted into a single crystal shell. I know some of those are on the market," it added, "but it seems so ghoulish to look at real dead bodies, even if they've been crystallised. My collection is all inorganic substances."

"But that's why our contractors are working as hard as they can to get everybody out of the capstones as soon as possible. There was a successful extraction just eight days ago, some courtier from a planet that doesn't exist any more."

"Why tell, when we can show?" asked Eifast. "We're passing near the Anchorage exclusion zone now. There's a no-fly area over the site," it added helpfully. "Just in case one of the capstones is a trick, and they hid a bomb under it. The extraction engineers from Cleave Reno have fine shields in place – they make bank vaults, and for this they use remote robot manipulators and everything – but you can never be too careful, so we stay well back and watch via telescopes and streamcasts. It's always a bit of an event, and the residents have already agreed to view it on the big screen."

The big screen was a soft light field on the inner side of the central shaft. A soft chime announced to the residents that broadcast was beginning.

Holo resolved to a skyscraper-sized face. "Ah, we're live," it said, and pulled back to reveal a lab with a narrow blast window looking out at the salt flat from near ground level. "Hi everybody. I'm Bryn Jols for Cleave Reno, and as you can see we're just about done with our latest Anchorage extraction."

The screen cut to a wide-angle shot of the desert. A standing stone stood isolated on the empty salt. A double line of black emitters formed rings around it, deflecting dust and stones. Most of the stone's surface had been abraded: a pair of heavy machines with dozens of arms circled it, cutting into the surface with fine beams, etching a gridwork across the irregular rock.

"OK, we're making the last few incisions now. What we're doing here is relieving the pressure across the whole anchor. We're putting artificial fractures through the whole stone. Don't try this at home – we've got months of X-ray analysis and we're pretty sure, sorry we're completely sure, heh, we've charted the rock's crystal structure so we can do the absolute best job we can. The smoother the fracture the smoother the extraction will go."

Bryn returned to the screen. She scratched her short-cropped hair and gave a little grin. "Today's operation is to retrieve one Plus-Knight Kamath. The anchor inscription gave us a good idea of what to expect before we started our incisions, which isn't always the case so we're pretty happy about that. She's an early Galactic Renaissance era soldier, probably an astartes type. That means our Kamath might come out a little feisty, so as well as the ultramedic team we've got an extra wing of Grelm militia on standby. Are you there, Commander? Say hi to the folks at home."

An exterior camera tracked up into the sky. A trio of black dots stood out against the azure, swelled to become people in the black and violet of the Realm's administrative house. Flight spells glittered and swam at their heels. "Hi folks," said one, and waved at the camera. "We're just enjoying the sun here at three thousand feet. Good luck down there, and a special 'hello' to the city migration we can see passing to the south. Clear skies."

Lance looked away from the screen. "We're that close?"

"Well, I fly in the lower troposphere, so I can see over two hundred and fifty kilometers of surface in every direction. But yes, we are passing very near the no-fly zone. Some of my inhabitants have telescopes that they're using to record their own footage of the event. It really is a very exciting moment in Enjyat's history."

The investigator glanced out the window, but saw nothing.

On the screen, technicians were confidently chattering over an arcane array of stress graphs. An ultramedic in ritual blue robes loomed among them, talking calmly into a psi link. Bryn returned to the foreground.

"Thanks, Commander," said the presenter. "Now the Chief's just told me that the final incisions are complete." The towering picture jumped and returned to the standing stone. It was very nearly noon, and the stone stood directly atop its own shadow. Heavy machines were rolling carefully across the isolation circle, the cutters exchanging places with safety equipment aiming hosepipes and stasis projectors at the anchor. Shields flickered in front of them; shards of rock might be no problem for the hardened construction machinery, but this was a prestige operation and they were taking no chances. "All we have to do now is wait, and gravity will do the rest. Should be any minute now. If you're on one of those stratoblocks, get out your telescopes and try to guess when-"

A lot of things happened more or less at once.

The anchor shattered.

There was a blur of red and black and upward motion and the camera cut out.

"Oh, that's – what do you mean," said Bryn from the screen. She wasn't talking to the broadcast audience.

"Gods," said Lance, spinning and looking out at the desert.

"Full alert! Climb climb climb! All units report in!" yelled the militia commander somewhere in the background.

"Emergency! Emergency! This is not a drill! This building is raising shields! All residents are advised to return to a safe location immediately!" A voice rolled echoing down the full length of the building. It was an automatic broadcast.

At the same time, Eifast was saying, "Who's sending that signal? Who's transmitting to the Anchorage?"

"Retreat! Pull the ultramedics indoors, we're dropping the bunker underground!" Bryn returned to the screen for a moment. "Sorry, we – sorry."

The screen was blank, empty air.

Outside something was rising over the desert, a dreadful presence shedding a cloud of salt and dust. Lance could see it without magnification.

It was like a wolf's head drooling fire, a grim relic of bygone wars. Yellow and amethyst condensation scars pocked its flanks. The upper and lower shells described a hull over two kilometres long. As he watched a portion of the stern shattered and fell away in slow motion amidst a shower of amber fragments. He could hardly recognise it for the damage, and he'd never seen one of this model in the flesh, but he knew what it was.

This ancient machine, still roaring its fury, was a Chaos battleship.


	5. Reentry

_Disclaimer: All Warhammer 40,000 and Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha concepts belong to their respective owners. No challenge is intended._

* * *

**5: Reentry**

* * *

Atlas arrived back in the museum at a sprint. "What's going on?" He wiped remnants of snacks from his hands with a napkin.

Gian was staring, gaping, at the fiery apparition climbing from the desert. Eifast's markings flickered wordlessly.

A wave of sound rolled across the building's emergency shields, muffled, the first thunder of displaced air arriving from the vessel's abrupt rematerialisation.

"They were expecting an astartes in the anchor. They got a dreadnought." Lance raised his voice. "Everybody should take cover right now! Do not run, but walk to the nearest shelter in good order! Yes, slow down! Officer Amber, you're with the Expeditionary Fleet, so I know you have emergency drill training."

"Y-yes, but I haven't, it's been months-"

"And most people haven't ever done drill, so you're in charge. Eifast, where's the nearest shelter?"

The building pulsed unhappily. "Um, there's a phase barrier compartment one floor directly below. You can reach it by the walkways. Emergency protocols have deactivated my speedways so you'll have to walk."

"You heard her. Everybody with Officer Amber. That means you, Vivo, Sacred Heart. Take the security detail and get under cover. We'll monitor the situation from up here."

The youth opened his mouth, offended. Lance cut him off. "I know, you can handle yourself. But it's our job to protect you. And besides, I want you to protect Officer Amber and the civilians in the shelter, alright?"

"I understand."

"Good. I promise, if we need your help, we'll let you know. Now run along."

Gian led Vivo to the nearest staircase. The pair disappeared behind a murmuring crowd of residents and security guards. Outside, sparkling fireflies seemed to arc slowly around the hulk of the battleship. Aerial troops getting into position.

Atlas put a fist into his palm. "I was supposed to be on holiday," he growled.

"Cross Mirage, put me through to Captain Vitus." Lance had his hand on the device in his pocket.

"No need, sir," said the Intelligence. "Vitus is broadcasting from orbit."

"_-repeat, unknown battleship, stand down!_" roared the telepathic channel. "_You are in violation of sovereign and allied territory and I will not hesitate to put you down if you do not immediately power down your weapons and allow us to board!_"

Lance and Atlas stared out the window. Fire and smoke poured from a hundred wounds in the ancient ship. The belch of breath from its central cavity was degradation of a spinal plasma column. But it was still climbing.

"... transmission aimed directly at it," Eifast was saying. "I don't know who's sending it, but it was pre-recorded in my residential communication system. What should I do?"

"Archive that stream and cut it off, right now," said Lance, without taking his eyes from the panorama.

Before he could finish, a fresh plume of fire belched from the battleship's flanks.

"Stupid," whispered Atlas.

The window flashed black with instinctive flare suppression. A solid bolt of plasma smashed out of the ship's gullet like solid lightning and blasted into a nearby stratoblock.

Lightning rained from a blue sky. The plasma bolt engulfed the building entirely. Secondary sheets of fire rolled off the impact, silver-blue and sparking. Feelers of electricity leaped thundering between towers over kilometres of air.

The lights didn't so much as flicker.

The stratoblock rolled out of the fireball. Its emergency shields were iridescing but held firm.

"What are they doing?" said Atlas, fists pressed against the window. "They must know plasma will be useless with such minimal focus, even against civilian shields."

"Maybe they don't," said Lance tightly. "That ship is ancient, we have no idea what was happening when it went into the Implacabium. They may be completely out of their depth, and that makes them dangerously unpredictable. Cross Mirage, what's the word on that transmission?"

"Encrypted, sir. All the building can say is that it was loaded in from a private channel some time in the last week."

"Damn."

"They're _shooting_ at us," said Eifast unsteadily. "Oh gods, they're shooting at us."

"_That's it_," said Vitus across the channel. The mage-astartes sounded furious. "_Flight squadron, disable the vessel's engines. Loyalty Earned,_" naming the cruise titan whence he oversaw security, "_firing solution, main batteries, hold til my mark. Swift Emancipation, crash re-entry, get eyes on that thing. Don't let it do that again!_"

"_I go,_" rumbled the psychic voice of the _Swift Empancipation_.

The fireflies dipped in toward the battleship. Flickers of plasma went to meet them, lightning chased by distant thunder. Flight troops were elites, however, and the scarred plasma weapons were no match for psyker shields.

There was a flicker of golden light, tactical protocols released. Explosions bloomed along the flank of the ship.

Then the fireflies were pulling back. "_Too hot in close_," panted the commander telepathically. "_Anti-personnel weapon almost winged me. Captain, we can't get at her._"

"_Alright, you've done what you can. I'm firing from the main batteries. Get clear, get low, do it fast._"

"_Yes sir._" The flight squadron split into groups and fled to the points of the compass.

"_Extraction team, what's your situation?_" Vitus barked.

There was a pause.

"_Uh, I'm the machine chief, I'm relaying the broadcast to the non-psykers. Captain, we've got the ultramedic team in a bunker twelve kilometres from the extraction site. The rest of the Anchorage is in a bunker near our position. I think we'll be alright._"

A twinkle appeared in the western sky.

"_Good. Everybody, brace yourselves and shut your eyes._"

The twinkle resolved itself into a fireball, the raw billowing of plasma as a massive object pushed itself through the atmosphere too fast for the air to part. Green wings snapped and flickered half unreal in its wake, wrenching it to a halt.

From the fireball thrust a silver head, sleek and inhuman, hungry, mechanical, capped with straight black horns. Long arms, lithe legs, green light crawling across its body. The _Swift Emancipation_ shrieked as it pulled itself down to merely hypersonic velocities in the upper stratosphere.

"_Flight squadron reports all clear._"

The battleship began to rotate towards the intruder. Another swell of fire rolled from its wounds, preparing to fire again. Perhaps its commander imagined the cruise titan would be easier prey. It was a twentieth the battleship's length, not even a hundred metres in size.

The other titan struck from orbit in the time it takes to blink.

The first particle beam superheated the air. It struck like lightning across a thousand kilometres of vertical atmosphere. Even in the scant milliseconds it spent alone, it wreathed the Chaos battleship in a corona of electricity too brief for the human eye to catch.

The second beam punched down through the column of rarefied air. It was hair-thin, almost invisible to the eye but for the atrocious light it released on contact with stray atoms. It punched neatly through the battleship as though it wasn't there and vanished into the ground.

The ship and the desert blew apart.

A ball of fire and dust erupted out of the impact site like a terrible and angry second sun.

"What's happening?" gasped Eifast. "What is that?"

"Orbital bombardment. Positron cannon." Lance shadowed his eyes with one hand, although the glass and shields kept damaging levels of light from entering. "The shockwave's going to hit us. You'd better strengthen the shields on that side."

"Stupid," said Atlas again. "That battleship was unshielded. Even a kinetic strike would have done serious damage. What were they thinking, picking a fight in that condition?"

The explosion was fading. A wall of dust and stone, cast high into the sky, seemed to begin a descent upon the stratoblock. The shockwave would be propagating in all directions. Fragments might land as far as the spaceport over the horizon. The scale of the single attack was staggering.

And just as the tower was enveloped in dust, Atlas started at something in the cloud.

"What was that?"

Lance followed his gaze. "I don't see anything... but gods damn it, they wouldn't."

There was the sound of another explosion, this time behind them.

Inside the building.

Eifast screamed.


	6. Setup

_Disclaimer: All Warhammer 40,000 and Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha concepts belong to their respective owners. No challenge is intended._

* * *

**6: Setup**

* * *

Lance put his back to a pedestal. "Eyes on ground," he sent to Atlas. The big man dropped to knees and elbows and scuttled towards the central shaft.

"Lance Maxim to _Loyalty Earned_. I'm on Eifast Stratoblock with Atlas and Vivo. We've got explosions. I think we've been boarded."

"_All units, converge on Eifast,_" ordered Vitus. "_Loyalty, put a priority link on him. What the hells is happening down there?_"

"They must have bailed out during the initial exchange, used the bombardment for cover and come in opposite the reinforced shields. Smart thinking if you're willing to lose a battleship. I should have seen it coming – Eifast reported an unknown transmission in her queue. This wasn't an accident. Somebody planned the attack, and it's centred on us."

Atlas waved him forward. Lance went at a low jog, settled beside his companion on his belly. The central shaft was utterly deserted, windows sealed and balconies free of movement.

"Smoke from the ground level. Looks like they came in low. Haven't seen any aerial recon and the elevators are on emergency lock. They must still be securing the entry site."

"Then we've got the upper hand on intel. Eifast, what have you got?"

The building gave no response.

Atlas pushed himself back from the edge. "Hey, it's going to be alright. Talk to me, Eifast."

"I-I'm not sure I can," said the building shakily. "It _hurts_."

"You're going to be fine," said Atlas, quick and low. "I know it hurts, but I want you to listen to me, OK? We need your help here. I want you to be a soldier, Eifast. Can you be brave for me?"

"I'll try," said the building, its voice unsteady. "I've never been shot before."

"I know exactly how you feel. I've been shot at, beat on, and blown up more than my fair share. But I'm still here, and I promise you, you're going to pull through this. We're going to protect you and all your people, Eifast. We're going to make it safe. Do you believe me?"

The building made a noise of experimental determination. "I think so. Yes! I'll try. Oh, this is not like the stories."

"Stories get one thing right. You've got to be brave, even when it's hard and it hurts. I know you've got courage in your heart, Eifast. Just concentrate on that and we'll get through this. Now, can you give us a feed on the intruders?"

"Yes. Yes! Transmitting now."

"Great. That's exactly what we need. But before we counter-attack, we've got to get reinforcements. Mach, give the building access to the military feed."

"Yes sir," said the Intelligence at his throat.

Atlas cast his inner eye across the battlefield readout. It was confused, but friendly positions were firm. "We've got fliers inbound and a cruise titan behind them. Unless they brought in a whole legion, we'll have superiority. Be ready to bring the shields down."

Lance scuttled back to join him. "When did you start sweet-talking architecture?"

"Rescue service," said Atlas straight-faced. "How we doing?"

"ETA is 120 seconds on the advance fliers. Internals show everybody's safe; the last emergency shelter just went into lockdown. Those things use phase barriers just as tough as the external shields. Remind me why we're not in one of them."

"Because we're knuckleheads who don't know when to quit."

"You're the knucklehead, I'm just here to make sure you don't get yourself in trouble. We've got surveillance from the building."

They hunkered down and looked into the feed. Eifast wasn't a tulpaon, a machine engineered for psyker power. Its sensor feed was digital, decoded through their Intelligences, but it did the job.

The entry point was a confused tangle of pain and contradiction. The attackers had blown out the wall across three floors and driven a wedge of destruction deep into the building. Network functionality was only seriously impaired near the wound.

Movement sensors recorded five entities moving out of the dead zone. They were big, these invaders. Three meters tall, bigger than the original astartes pattern. They had broad shoulders and long legs and reminded Lance in an uncomfortable way of the athletic frame of the cruise titan slipping towards the building.

Cross Mirage reencoded the visual feed into a holistic perspective, one of the advantages of a highly-trained mind. Lance could see the entire hallway from every angle at once, discarding the old mammal brain's desire for flat pictures in favour of truer volumes.

He focused on the head attacker. She moved in the middle of the squad; the other four covered her movements like a well-oiled machine, scouting left and right as they went. These were clearly posthumans. Their gangling limbs rippled with lean cords of muscle; their skin was a reddish-brown marked with fine white calluses almost like scales. They wore an ancient form of armour, a skeletal framework supporting heavy plate around shoulders, wrists, waist and boots. The shoulder yoke supported a heavy jetpack sweeping back behind the head. But where the plate was gunmetal grey, the shields projecting from it arced with angry yellow. Fine cables ran into jacks along the spine, neck, and lower skull: probably hard-wired psi conduits powering the armour reactors. Several wore tattered furs and hides below the shields.

Every one of them bore Implacabium scars. The leader was bleeding from one leg, but the wound was closing up at a visible rate. Dots of red and yellow ran up one flank. Her armour was speckled with iridescent green and red. Others had it worse: one carried his weapon left-handed, his right arm locked in a hideous broth of wine-dark crystal bent at a permanent angle. Another was blind in one eye with carbuncles the size of a fist along the side of his head. A third had suffered shield damage, and was unprotected from the waist up, but for a black fur vest and bands of flickering yellow about her weapon arm. The fourth was featureless, his or her face and skin concealed beneath an intricately articulated silver carapace dotted with black scars.

Atlas tagged them Boss, Left-Hand, One-Eye, Topless and Mask. Lance went along with it.

"Area secure," said One-Eye from point. The speech was automatically translated. Although young, the Intelligences carried many files in their memory, including ancient languages. The intruders were hunkered down in a lobby, deactivated elevators open along one wall. An unfamiliar weapon swept back and forth under his gaze. It had a bullpup grip putting most of the mechanism under the shields on his forearm; the head was a broad shield of winking green lenses. Others bore similar devices.

"Very well," said the leader. Her vast-lunged voice buzzed with deep harmonics. "Brother Fourteen has guided the _Prowling Abyss_ to her last battle, fused to his station. Let's not waste his sacrifice. Shield crystals?"

"Here," and, "here", said Left-Hand and Topless. They produced a pair of glowing orbs.

"Uh-oh," said Atlas.

"Attune those, high and low. I want this freakish structure sealed off before the warship in orbit can muster another such strike." Her caution would have been laughable at any other time: a cruise titan was only a light vessel, but it could volley several such shots per second without effort.

Lance was yelling silently across the band. "We've got no time! They're setting up a siege barrier! Get in here!"

The crystals swelled in brightness, then jerked upwards and hung vibrating in mid-air. Eifast hissed again. "What was that? What's going on?"

"Drop your shields. Do it now!" Lance was staring empty-eyed at nothing, his consciousness fully on the attack squad.

"I... I can't. Why can't I drop my shields?"

"Dammit! Aerial squadron, break off approach! Intruders have erected a barrier. Eifast's shields are jammed on!"

In the lobby, the commander was congratulatory: "Good work. That ought to buy us some time. Our orders are to take control of this structure, we don't want it blown to pieces under our feet."

"No sir."

"Now we've got a moment to breathe, I want a medical check. Eight, your arm's clearly out of action, you're on support fire. Twelve, are you on full cognition?"

"Negative," said One-Eye. "My right hemisphere's been partially crystallised. Think I'll need to cut out the mass to regenerate the brain tissue, and that'll take time. I'm supplementing with spinal ganglia and suit heuristics, but fair warning, I'm mostly running on instinct and protocol. I think I've lost most of my memory, but then, how would I tell?" He wheezed laughter.

"You know you're Twelve, you know I'm Kamath," said the commander. "And you know we serve the Holy Emperor of Chaos, even unto death."

"Unto death," chorused the little band.

"If that's all you have, that's all you need," she finished. "Anything else to report?" She looked from person to person. There was nothing. "Good. Six, Twenty, do an entropy sweep through the walls and floor, find some signal lines. We need to locate this vessel's control room, if it is a ship at all."

Mask and Topless went to work in a corner. The green heads of their weapons disengaged, rearranged into a series of probes.

"You don't have a control room, right, Eifast?" asked Atlas.

"No," whispered the building beside him. "I'm a redundant network system; you can talk to me just about anywhere. It would be so limiting to be able to talk just in one place – no offence," it added.

Mask looked up. "Heavy signals, sir." His voice was an unpleasant whisper. "No luck decrypting them – would probably overload my suit systems. But signal entropy spikes up every time I move. Think the whole building's bugged. Somebody's watching us."

"Should've seen that coming," said Kamath. "Twelve, Six, cover the entrances. Eight, Twenty, we're burning this out." She racked a lever on her weapon. The heads slid apart into a thick ring.

"She is way too good," said Atlas. "Eifast, you're been brave enough. Cut the feed."

"No," said Lance out loud. "That'll just make them angry. Eifast, keep watching. It'll hurt, but you've got to hold on until they start shooting – then blow out all the lights on the level and cut the feed."

"Ow," said the building. "No, it's alright. I can do this."

The feed was full of green fire, then abruptly cut out. There was no sound from the lower levels, no sign that anything was amiss.

"Is that alright? Should I lock them in? I think I can," said Eifast.

"Not a good plan," said Lance. "They'd just blast their way through. Worst case, they do whatever they did to get inside again. No, make sure all the doors are open, and cut the lights to the bottom third of the shaft. We need them to think they've dusted the security."

"What about the safety bunkers? No, wait, those are sealed from the inside. I've never had to use them before. Right;" and the lights went out. The shaft was still illuminated by sunlight entering above and through the great panoramic window, although refracted through the traitorous shield it took on momentary highlights of green or indigo.

"Keep an eye on movement from the upper levels. Alert us if you see anything moving in the main shaft."

"Yes, sir!" said the building with only a small quaver in its voice.

"Meanwhile, we need a mission plan. Maxim to Vitus. Things keep going from bad to worse."

"_I can see that,_" snarled the astartes. "_Not your fault, rookie, these marines took us all by surprise. Give me a sitrep while the Loyalty prepares for reentry._"

A shadow loomed over the squadmates.

_Swift Emancipation_ towered just outside the shield.

The silver-and-black cruise titan hung on many wings of green psionic flame, its arms outstretched, hands clenched in angry talons. Lance and Atlas stared into a green eye as tall as they were. The war machine's jaws gnashed. It clawed at Eifast's shields to no effect. Although the titan was dwarfed by the building's central shaft, it didn't feel particularly small.

"I am so glad _Emancipation_ is on our side," said Atlas, slightly awed.

"Situation," said Lance. "OK. Vivo's in a shelter on level 25. The building reports just myself and Atlas are mobile. We're on level 26 directly above his position, with line of sight to _Emancipation_ and the interior shaft. We've confirmed five attackers including Plus-Knight Kamath, all of some sort of ancient astartes strain."

"Clarification: they're Ladan Tertius strain," added Atlas. "Human psykers with full-body rebuilds designed to keep them going on the battlefield. They're tough, but the Tertius nerve grafts were much better at brute force psi than fine work. They're running all their power into psi reactors and powering that arsenal off tech. Our Intelligences assist us to generate spell protocols without mechanical interwhatsits, so at least we've got versatility on our side."

"_You're the expert,_" sent Vitus. "_Anything they can do to surprise us?_"

"Dunno. Haven't seen records of a Tertius since... they're not recent."

"Right. More important, while we were eavesdropping, we picked up references to their objective. That signal that went through Eifast's system seems to have contained orders to take and hold this building. They seem reluctant to cause major structural damage, but they're not afraid to break things that get in their way."

"_That sounds terrifyingly like our worst-case scenario,_" said Vitus. "_Or do you think it's a coincidence that they chose today to attack a building with Gigaron's kid inside?_"

Atlas nodded. "You think Expositor Niva's behind this," he growled. "I knew that rat was up to no good."

"_And it's also no coincidence that the Nightmare Lacuna just sealed all its locks and stopped returning our calls. Don't worry, the spaceport's got half its tractor array on the ship. Whatever Niva's doing, he'd better hope it doesn't involve him going anywhere in the next few years. Meanwhile, I'm bringing my titan in to support the Emancipation on a barrier-piercing ritual. We're going to get you out of there. Do not let anything happen to the child._"

"Agreed," said Lance. "Vivo's security must be highest priority. _Emancipation_, pull back, we're too close to Vivo's bunker. Atlas, we'd better gear up, get ready to run interference and distraction in case they close on this position." He frowned. "I just wish I knew how he pulled this off. You can't just smuggle a battleship onto an enemy planet. We're missing something here, something big."

"You keep thinking," said Atlas. "I'm going to protect Vivo."

"Right. Regroup point is halfway round the shaft, level eighteen. Fallback is our suite on 87. Let's move."

The squadmates went into the shaft at a run. Behind them the cruise titan lifted and fell up like a monstrous herald. As it moved away the two simultaneously vaulted the barrier rail.

"Cross Mirage, Mach Caliber. Set up."

They erupted into flame.

Lance braced himself as his Intelligence reconfigured matter around him, drawing in stored templates from his aura, tearing apart the space around his body, putting it back together stronger and more protective than foot-thick metal. Amber fire crackled about him. His mind grasped it, channelled it, and pushed it into his hands.

He landed on the promenade below and rolled, girt in the battle armour of the modern age. Mid-length robes in white, a protective jacket in black, black gloves and boots, protective padding at knees and shoulders. An old leather belt cinched his waist, from which hung holsters and equipment pouches. Cross Mirage was in battle form, a heavy pistol in each hand. The blue-and-red symbol of his mentor flared on his shoulders.

Atlas roared out blue fire. Metal coalesced out of elsewhere, clasping to his right hand, right foot, all down one side. Machinery howled. His armour burst into being, white robe and long blue vest, reinforced boots that reached the knee, black gauntlet on the left forearm.

He landed on his feet, knocking aside nearby chairs and tables with the weight of his impact, and grasped his right arm. Mach Caliber encased his forearm up to the elbow, a cradle of turbines and ducts and blue crystal. Metal ribs marched down his torso to the right leg, where the Intelligence swelled out into another nest of mechanisms. The massive weight of the device didn't even slow him down. He burst out of the landing on a cushion of flaring spell-glyphs, streaking into the corridors in raw contempt of gravity and friction.

Lance took his time. He put a line shot into a balcony support, sighted over the side, and went out into empty space. Eight stories down he stopped playing out line, kicked off a window, and released as he was coming back towards the wall. He went through a door in a roll and dashed across silent black carpets towards the rendezvous a fifth of a kilometre away.

Back in action.


	7. Shafts

_Disclaimer: All Warhammer 40,000 and Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha concepts belong to their respective owners. No challenge is intended._

* * *

**7: Shafts**

* * *

Atlas was waiting for him, ducked behind a balcony shelter. "Any trouble?"

"There's something moving in the central shaft," whispered Eifast from low beside the duo. "It came out of a fifth floor window."

"Stay down." Lance put one pistol over the railing and let the Intelligence pipe him a feed.

There were two drones, metre-wide wings flying slow circles up the shaft. Every so often one directed a green flash into the structure of the building.

"Scout fliers. We're not the only ones looking for intel. I'd better take them out, but it'll blow our position. Get ready to move."

"What's the objective?"

"They'll know we're up here. Hopefully that will draw them up and away from those shield crystals. If we go down a lift shaft to level 1, we can circle around and take out that barrier before they know where we are."

"Sounds good to me." Atlas went to a kneeling crouch. Cyan glyphs flickered around his fist.

Lance went up, guns over the edge. The guns barked twice. In the shaft, the drones spun away in a cloud of fragments. One, bereft of half a wing, whipped end over end and exploded against a window. The other folded inward, hung at the top of an arc, and tumbled toward the park disintegrating as it went.

The answer was swift. A hail of fire lashed out from the park, level six, level seven. Buzzing bolts of green plasma curved screaming towards their vantage. The drones had been bait, of course.

"Cover me," barked Lance. Atlas put his hand out and a bubble of blue light sprang into being around them. The homing bolts careened off its surface with the sound of burning butter. A ricochet punched a hole the size of a fist in the wall nearby.

"Huh. Thought they'd pack more punch."

"That's an anti-personnel weapon. If we weren't shielded..."

"Yeah, well, it's easy enough to deflect. What's the hold-up?"

Lance finished his protocol. A glowing amber ball hung on the balcony. "Decoy." He pointed both guns at the ball and held down the trigger. It absorbed his fire and grew brighter. "Alright, they'll break fire in a moment. Get ready to go."

Sure enough, the green barrage stopped after a moment. Lance tapped the ball, which shivered and darted to the edge. It put two shots into the park near the shooter's position. That would keep them busy, until the decoy ran out of energy and collapsed back into the Warp.

"Go, go, go." The duo went for the nearest elevator, Lance sprinting with his guns covering the side approaches, Atlas pushing himself to ever greater speeds in his antigravity shell. The big man didn't so much turn corners as bounce through them, planting his feet on walls and roof to preserve momentum.

"My gardens – my windows!" stammered the building as more shots rang out from the shaft.

"Are they more important than a child's freedom?" growled Atlas.

"Ah, no. No! What is wrong with me? Why would I even think that?"

"There's nothing wrong with you, Eifast. You're under a lot of stress. Lance and me, we're combat veterans, we know how to stay cool under fire. Believe me, you're doing fine.

"OK, buddy, is the line secure?" He raised his arms to check the glowing spell-cords projecting around his waist from Lance's weapons.

"Diagnostic confirms. Vitus, Eifast, we're going into the lower levels. If we're lucky we can flank them and take out the barrier generator. Eifast, we won't be able to talk until we get back to the higher levels, that's enemy territory. Keep recording everything you can. Maybe we'll find a clue to whatever's going on here."

"_Godspeed,_" said Vitus. "_Loyalty is on final braking orbit. We'll be at your position in ten minutes, and even a full isolation barrier can be pierced safely with enough psi force. We've mobilised all regional military forces except the Spaceport Guard, and should have a full military perimeter up in thirty minutes just in case. This is the biggest fight the planet's seen in decades, so the Grelm troops are pretty excited to show their mettle. Stay in touch._"

"Yes sir," said Atlas, and pulled open the safety doors of the elevator shaft. "Biggest fight in decades, and two people to fight it. Sure you wouldn't rather rappel?"

"I trust you," said Lance.

Atlas jumped into the shaft towing his partner behind him.

Gravity elevators consisted of virtual bubbles of isolated space. The shaft itself was a simple glass tube, empty from foundation to roof. From the eighteenth floor it was nearly a hundred meters to the bottom of the shaft somewhere in the basement levels. Atlas went in at an angle, deflected off the shaft wall, and caromed downward in a blaze of blue. Lance hung above him for a moment, then as friction bled through the antigravity bubble, got a knee on the man's shoulders and braced himself.

Atlas flared the field, span around the shaft, and they came to a rest hanging by his fingers from the lintel of a door on the first floor.

"Although it occurred to me just now, using the stairs would be nearly as fast and probably considerably safer." Lance pushed himself up Atlas' body and levered the doors open. "All clear. Let's go." He flashed a map into his companion's mind with a route highlighted through the lobbies and access corridors of the building's interior layout. They could still hear gunfire from the shaft, but as they moved out there was a tremendous bang, and everything went quiet.

"That sounded heavy," said Atlas with foreboding.

They went cautiously this time. The big man dropped his acceleration bubble and moved on foot, so he could more easily reverse direction if he walked into a firezone. They advanced leapfrog, one covering the other as they dashed from corner to corner. A residential hallway thick with black carpet. A child's tri-steed lay on its side abandoned, legs frozen in the air in mid-pace. A utility space, uncomfortable cover behind whirring ventilation units and metal stairways. A lobby lined with marble statues depicting a scene from the Eldar myth-history, another uncomfortable tale which had altogether fewer heroes at the end than it did at the beginning.

"Hold it," sent Lance after a moment. "What's this?"

Atlas went down on one knee. "Water. It's dripping from up there. More structural damage?"

Lance looked at the floor. "No. It's not pooling, it's draining off towards the West. What the..."

Atlas frowned. "Put out a line. About an arm's length. Just humour me, OK?"

"Sure. Now what?"

"Hold that against the door." He squinted at the spell-cord. "See, it's not hanging parallel. There's nothing wrong with the building. It's gravity that's causing the problem. Vitus said there'd be a full deployment to our _position_... so we've stopped moving, right?"

"I'd have to ask the building when we're out of the quiet zone, but I think so, yes."

"But the planet's still revolving. Oh, this is stupid, why would you pin our position to the surface but our orientation to the sun? Never mind, it must be a disorientation weapon. OK, I think the Tertiaries did this on purpose. As the day goes on the building will hold its angle. We're slowly tipping sideways."

"So the water's pouring out of all those ponds and water features. And in twelve hours the whole building will be upside down. Gods, what'll that do to the people in the shelters?"

"Shelters are engineered for worse. I'm more worried about the gardens. We'll probably see full landslides in two to three hours unless we can disable those barrier crystals."

"Right. I'm revising our approach to avoid likely flood avenues, but otherwise, proceed as planned."

The approach took them along corridors with sodden carpets. Open doors gaped with the threat of ambush; water was already beginning to pool in the corners of suites. Lance noted that Atlas went over the water, his heavy feet leaving barely a ripple.

The entry wound was in the South of the building, past the flooding areas. The duo hunkered down on the edge of a yawning abyss. The blue desert sky was framed by the shattered guts of the building, walls and floor smashed inward. Dust and shards of glass covered the carpet. As the building tilted, fragments spilled from upper floors, cascading out of the wound. Somewhere beneath the building the fragments were collecting at the bottom of the shield bubble. A great distance below, a sea of settling white dust covered the desert. A pair of black and violet transport ships settled into the cloud, part of the militia deployment.

"Crystals should be that way," sent Lance telepathically. Atlas nodded. They crept towards the lobby they'd seen through Eifast's surveillance.

"Hold." Lance pointed to a ceiling decoration, a crystal chandelier hanging askance. "This is about where I'd set up a security perimeter. We know they've got drones, they're probably running spy cams too. That chandelier's got good line of sight down the corridor towards their crystals."

"Why not set it up facing outward?"

"I'd do that outdoors, but line of sight is limited in a corridor. If all you're going to see is the one room, might as well plant the bug where it won't be found as easily. We'd see the lens too easily if it were facing outward, and although they'd know we were coming, we'd pop it quick enough they wouldn't get a good read on our numbers."

"Sounds fair. Are we going to knock it out?"

"No, they'd know we were coming. Are you up for a Breakout?"

"Oh yeah. How long can you hold the cloak?"

"Give me sixty seconds, then show yourself to the cam and start acting big and dumb. Think you can do that?"

"Gee, I dunno, boss."

"Good. If it gets too hot in front, don't wait up. Go to 87 and hold tight until I contact you."

Lance's outline flickered and went out.

Atlas watched an internal clock count down from 60. There was no sound from the corridor. "Hope you're well out of sight, buddy," he thought to himself, and stomped forward, pounding one steely fist into his palm.

He didn't look over his shoulder. If there was a cam, it was getting a good look at him. His shoulders itched. Pretending to be cautious, he poked his head around a corner. This didn't look like a killzone: shop facades, too much cover for attackers. It would be the next corridor.

He took a deep breath and summoned the antigravity bubble.

Kicked off around the corner. Low and fast, he slid halfway up the wall as a hail of green hornets shrieked past. Then he was accelerating forward, past smooth walls toward an incongruous barricade of carved marble the marines must have dragged out from their base camp. The shooter snarled something inaudible as the shots bounced screaming from his shields and ducked behind cover.

Atlas had been shot at before, and an instinct born of experience kicked in. As the shooter rose up, weapon reconfigured from multiple emitters to a single long lance, he was falling forward.

The shot blew through his outer shields and heat washed across his back. His left hand hit the floor. Green fire bit into the floor up the corridor – the shooter had half-compensated for his evasion – and kept going. There was a terrible roar as the carpet volatilised, and a distant fire-wreathed glimpse of daylight at the end of a perfectly straight tunnel the width of his shoulders.

He saw the impact site upside-down, turning the momentum of his fall into a roll and hand-spring. The ceiling was high, but he almost grazed it as he turned in mid-air.

The shooter was One-Eye. He was bringing up that dreadful lance again, and away from solid surfaces, Atlas couldn't change his vector.

Yellow fire smashed into the Tertius from behind. He staggered just enough to put his aim off again. The green blast whipped between Atlas' face and his right hand.

A wave of destruction shot up and emerged from Eifast's eighth storey.

Atlas came down.

The machines at his wrist roared. A blue corona burst back around his fist. The blow took One-Eye in the temple. He spun sideways, face invisible behind a shower of sparks from his shield-armour, and crashed head first into the wall. The impact of his three-meter frame was substantial.

Atlas regained his feet within arm's reach of the reeling marine. He kicked the Tertius behind the knee, using the impact to knock himself backwards, and rebounded off the opposite wall. As he came in, another yellow shot blasted against the turning marine's shoulder. That many-eyed green weapon was reconfiguring again, the eyes turning sideways like some kind of heavy sword. In the hands of such a monster, such a weapon could probably cut through a tank in a single blow..

He brought his hands together and down.

One-Eye's helm shield had blown out in the first impact. The second one drove him to his knees. Atlas crouched, went forward in a blue flash. His fist cracked into an uppercut full in the marine's face. Energy flared and flashed from the impact. He felt crystal and bone jump and splinter. The Tertius was thrown to his full height – Atlas in his recovering guard was at navel level – and crashed back into the wall, spitting sparks and gravel as the shields bit at fractured masonry.

The sword slumped nervelessly, remaining in his grasp only by means of the bullpup systems bound to his wrist.

Atlas wasn't taking any chances. He could bury his fist in solid stone up to the elbow; the ancient marine had taken three blows and was still on his feet. He pinned One-Eye's weapon against the wall with his left hand, channelling protective wards as he did so in case the green blade began to burn, and rained jab after jab into the wrist and forearm. The shields blew out and yellow sparks cascaded from his barrier jacket. Bone splintered before the bullpup casing gave way and the green eyes along the blade flickered and died.

One-Eye spat blood and jerked his other hand up drunkenly. Then he froze.

Lance held a pistol under his intact ear.

"You're too late," rumbled the Tertius, and made a grab for the gun hand. Lance threw himself forward and caught the massive arm with his body; he was flung against the wall. Atlas reached up and grabbed the marine's gorget, a thin ring of metal about his throat, and with that leverage delivered a hammer fist to his clavicle between neck and shoulder armour. The massive chest grunted, so he did it again. This time he blew through the shield and felt bone snap through the steel of his gauntlet.

One more. Bone ground against ribs. Even the mighty muscles of an astartes needed a skeleton to pull against, and while a collarbone strike wasn't going to kill anyone, it sure as the stars was going to stop them using that arm for anything serious.

Lance pulled away from the drooping limb. Just to make sure, he put three shots into the giant's crystal-scarred face.

"Stun rounds had better hold the bastard," he gasped. "Felt that through my robes."

"All Tertiaries were enhanced psykers," grunted Atlas, lowering the hulk to the ground. "Can't think of anything better than a good nerve-jangling to make him safe – lethal rounds would leave his spinal column intact. Are we clear?"

"Yes, looks like they just had one rear guard. Kamath must be almost as short on people as we are. Don't bother securing him – quick, the barrier crystals!"

The duo burst into the lobby. The shield generators hovered in midair. They were covered by a pair of green eyes secured high in the corners; Lance shot them.

"Maxim to Vitus. We're got eyes on the crystals. Taking them out now."

Atlas put his hand on the first ancient seal. It tingled with arcane sensations.

He crushed it. Glowing powder and shards cascaded to the floor. The other followed suit.

"Crystals destroyed. Repeat, shield crystals are destroyed. Come on in."

There was a short pause.

"_Negative. Swift Emancipation reports barrier integrity unchanged._"

The squadmates looked at each other, then at the pile of fading crystal fragments.

"Oh, that clever monster," said Lance.

Mach Caliber spoke up from Atlas' side. "Analysis complete. These crystals are an ancient form of lighting device, incapable of channelling more psi energy than a lamp. We have been had."

Atlas' eyes went to the elevator shafts. They vanished upwards. And the unconscious marine back in the hallway wore a jetpack.

In the distance, a sharp series of explosions echoed across the central shaft. The howl of an emergency siren started up and stopped just as abruptly.

"Vivo," they said in shared horror.


	8. Deduction

_Disclaimer: All Warhammer 40,000 and Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha concepts belong to their respective owners. No challenge is intended._

* * *

**8: Deduction**

* * *

Vitus stood firm on the bridge of the _Loyalty Earned_ as it bucked through the stratosphere. His physique was of the ancient and primal astartes, a head taller than normal humans, massive muscle and raw bone. His copper beard was braided over brick-red battle robes. A silver skull decorated his beret; a warhammer talisman floated on a cord beside him, its Intelligence relaying the order of battle to him and the cruise titan about them.

"I don't like this," he growled. "It doesn't make sense."

"_What's not to get?_" came Atlas' voice across the telepathic link. The conference was running at the speed of thought. "_They ran a charade, pulled us in, and while we were chasing after harmless lamps they took Gar's kid. We've been one step behind them the whole way._" The big man's mind echoed with bitterness.

Vitus looked over the surveillance footage again. Plus-Knight Kamath backed out of a rippling breach in the security vault shields, the tiny form of Vivo dragged along by one arm like a doll barely as tall as her knee. She held her ancient weapon at the breach. "_Behave, and nobody gets hurt,_" she hissed. "_Their lives are in your hands._"

Left-Hand stepped into the breach as Kamath turned aside. "_I know you can hear me,_" she bellowed. Her titanic frame gave her voice a depth and power frankly inhuman, even by Vitus' standards. "_This vessel is laced with active spy circuitry. I am taking command of the ship, effective immediately. All armed personnel, present yourselves in the middle of the gardens if you want this precious child to live. Bring my soldier, alive or dead. You have fifteen minutes to comply._"

The clip looped. He muted its voice in his head.

"No, their tactics make sense. She's running rings around you, Lance, and you always were the sneakiest little forward on the force. It's the strategy that I can't figure out. What are they after?"

"_I thought they were after Vivo._" Atlas frowned.

"No, _we're_ after Vivo. That's our job, and that's how we've seen the whole scenario so far. But look at them. The boss just threatened to kill the kid if we don't give her the building. What does that tell us?"

"_She's not after Vivo,_" sent Atlas.

"_And she doesn't know what he is,_" added Lance. "_You're right, sir! Look, she's only holding him by one arm. She'd never do that if she'd even glanced at a briefing. She's treating him like a normal kid._"

"Right. But don't forget that she went past dozens of other vaults to get to him. That can't be coincidence – someone told her where to go to get her hostage."

Lance nodded. "_But we know Expositor Niva had a full briefing on Vivo. He was practically rubbing our noses in how smooth his operations were. Why would he send troops with no briefing?_"

"_Maybe he couldn't. They were trapped in that prison all this time, no signals in or out._"

But Vitus still didn't like it. "They had enough time to get a full briefing on your location and the value of the kid. They've used Eifast's sensors against us right from the start; they wouldn't be able to do that without a thorough intel packet, right down to building blueprints. No way would Niva leave out something so important as Vivo's identity."

"_Hold on. Mach, get me a copy of Eifast's blueprints and public directory listings for the past six months. I need to check something._"

"_What are you doing, Atlas? We've got a little over ten minutes before Vivo's in real trouble. We should be planning a rescue._"

"_Trust me._"

"We're going to have to do a lot of trusting all round," said Vitus. "If you go in after Vivo without knowing their strategy, you'll be doing exactly what they want. We'll have to trust him to look after himself until we can figure this out."

"_I'm not happy with that,_" said Lance.

"You don't have to be happy, you just have to do as I say. Look, the kid's survived worse, and that was before he started training with Atlas' burgeoning brood of brothers. It won't take more than twenty minutes for the cruise titans to run a shield breaker ritual. You may need to stall them until we can bring in reinforcements."

"_You've got half the planetary guard out there, but they don't make me feel any better. I don't think Niva is going to let us delay ten minutes after deadline._"

"_It's not Niva,_" said Atlas.

Vitus blinked. "What?"

"_It can't be the Expositor. He knows too much. Whoever's doing this only has access to low clearance secrets – level 1 or 2 at most. They just know that Vivo's important enough to get a security detail._"

"Of course! The Tertiaries must be working for somebody else."

Lance threw his hands up. "_So now we don't even know who's in charge or what we're looking for? Remind me how this helps us at all!_"

"_It's Cleave Reno, the construction company. Their exec Merto Reno works from the penthouse suite here in Eifast._"

Vitus blinked again.

"How...?"

The big man grinned. "_I'm a Search and Rescue officer. It takes minutes to pull a burning building off someone, but days to fill out the insurance forms afterwards. I got good at following paper trails. And this trail points straight to Reno._"

"_That can't possibly... wait. Cross Mirage, replay the stream from the Anchorage._"

Images skipped and jumped inside the link. The presenter grinned at the pickup. "_I'm Bryn Jols for Cleave Reno,_" she said.

"_They knew all along,_" growled Lance.

"_I don't think so,_" said Atlas. "_You don't share your plans with anybody if you want them to stay secret. She knew something was up, but it was still a surprise when it happened. No, this was coordinated from the very top._

"_Look at the projected profit curves for the next year. Cleave Reno's stock doubled over the last two years, after a series of massive upgrades in the financial district. But they don't have any more contracts lined up – the expansion boom's over. They're sitting on top of a whole pile of specialised construction machinery and have nothing to use it for. They can claim back some tax on depreciation, but with no revenue stream..._"

"_The whole company's going under,_" breathed the investigator.

"_Right. And it's all because of the interstellar trade increase._"

"_So how does this translate into a Chaos attack on our position?_"

"I think I can answer that much," rumbled Vitus. "I just brought the cream of Enjyat's military to your doorstep. You're a distraction."

"_Bingo. Cleave Reno runs the Anchorage. Someone must have faked the header on Kamath's capstone, dug up the old command protocols for Tertius troops, and waited to spring this trap on the whole planet. And it's working._"

The astartes nodded. "That makes more sense. Kamath is a sacrificial pawn – she was never supposed to win, just make noise. Oh, she's going to hate that."

"_Right, a distraction. But from what?_"

_"Remember how Gian said the cargo docks at the spaceport were booked out? I did some digging. Reno's arranged for several high-security interstellar haulers to depart today – not the company, Merto Reno himself. He shifted his personal assets into offworld accounts months ago. Nobody on this planet would have clearance to trace those transactions, but I do. The man picked on the wrong babysitters._"

"_What, he's going to pull his company's bank-building inventory off-world? Why all this destruction then?_"

"_Not the company inventory. They've spent the past few years building vaults for physical currency, coins and gems used to back the whole planetary economy. And I bet Merto knows all the secret ways into those vaults, all the weaknesses in the doors and security systems. Don't you see?_

_"He's going to rob all the banks on Enjyat and run before anybody can catch him._"

Vitus gestured at his Device. "Correction. They've already started. There are reports of air traffic violations around the financial spire. They must have brought in off-world muscle for the real op."

"_Is there any way we can stop them?_"

"No. Grelm militia wanted to prove they had what it takes – their rapid response teams are cooling their heels in the desert under you right now. The city is almost defenceless."

Atlas laughed. "_That's not true. There's a whole ship full of assault troops in their way._"

"_You can't be serious._"

Vitus joined in his laugh. "Oh, I like where this is going. Iron Count! Open a line to the _Nightmare Lacuna_. Tell Expositor Niva that somebody is usurping his command."

"Yes sir," said the hammer by his side. It sounded enthusiastic.


	9. Cooperation

_Disclaimer: All Warhammer 40,000 and Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha concepts belong to their respective owners. No challenge is intended._

* * *

**9: Cooperation**

* * *

"Everybody on the floor, this is a robbery!"

Operative Delgan had been miserable for days. His brain chemistry had been surgically altered at the beginning of his career. He believed it had been voluntary.

"Nobody be a hero! Stay out of our way and we won't have to get nasty!"

Only while he was working did he experience joy. His superiors coded him with pheromones. This made him happy. He understood that normal people could control their own emotions. It seemed wasteful to him, in those long dreary days of philosophising and laying low before the job. Delgan was a thoughtful man, a quality which made him a favourite of the superiors.

He chose a bank teller at random and shot him in the chest. The man crashed against the wall behind him and hung thrashing for a moment, fire spurting from his tunic and nose, before the thruster rounds gave out or bored through his spine into the marble.

"I don't want to make any more examples!"

Delgan felt that he had a bright future in the organisation.

"Delgan to Bega. Foyer secure."

"_Roger that,_" said his comm unit happily.

The bank facade was a tall window that looked out across a garden terrace and the upward curve of the spire highway. Beyond was the great gulf that separated the district from other parts of the city. Aircars drifted past in orderly lanes.

That order was short-lived. Heavy lifters broke from flight control and curved in towards the financial district one by one, as the assault teams signalled readiness up and down the spire. Bega's vessel loomed larger and larger, until it shot over the gardens and smashed through the armoured glass of the facade. Shards cascaded across the floor. Patrons cowering in the corners screamed.

Delgan was wearing heavy boots and goggles with a pale grey business robe. The robe had been woven with supersmart matter and served as armour, of course; a complex series of shields and antikinetic fields would protect him from light arms fire, and he could tell from the black clouds in the West that the distraction had gone perfectly. In and out before the military could respond, that was the way.

The heavy lifter disgorged teams of extraction specialists. Delgan directed four of his men to go with them to the vault. He kept the main security cordon in the front to keep an eye on the sky. There would be no military response, but the civilian lawbringers might show before departure. He smiled. His gun was the length of his leg and almost as heavy, loaded with a range of fast-firing needle missiles. It would reduce a tactical team to lace before they even touched down. That would be fun.

"_Antichronaton burst in three, two... done. Stasis shields down, isolators disengaged. We're in._" Bega stayed behind the controls of the lifter lodged in the entrance while the extractor teams swapped their safecracker gear for hover pallets. They'd rehearsed this op for weeks. Cleave Reno had constructed a copy of an entire bank in an ice ravine somewhere on a southern continent, and the organisation had spent more than enough time optimising their routine. The teams knew the layout intimately. The robbery would be over in minutes.

"_Look at this stuff,_" said an extractor with the giddy joy of a true operative. "_Never seen so much gold in one place._"

"You'll see more when we get it onto the ship," said Delgan. "The amount of space they gave us, we could go swimming in the stuff. It's a big... ship..."

Something black and jagged dropped out of the sky.

A deceleration thunderclap rocked the building. Glass jumped from the floor as the spire flexed in the sudden pressure wave. Delgan dropped to one knee reflexively.

"Yes, by all means. Bow."

The intruder stepped over the rubble of the bank entrance, one hand on the side of Bega's truck, the other holding a twisted black cane. He wore blood-red robes and the eight-pointed star gleamed on his bald head. Behind him the _Nightmare Lacuna_ rumbled angry red thoughts over the banking district.

"On the floor!" yelled Delgan. "Get out of my way or I end you right now!" He brought his gun to bear.

"Oh, I don't think that will be necessary," said Expositor Niva. "There appears to have been a mistake, one I intend to correct."

This wasn't going according to plan. "I said on the floor! I will shoot you, man!"

"See, this is what I'm talking about," sighed Niva, stepping lightly off the rubble to a patch of intact carpet. "You seem bound to persist in your parade of errors. For example, I think you've mistaken me for one of you precious and fragile civilian sorts. Oh, I see you've been making examples," he added, pausing to examine the smouldering remains of the teller.

"What a nice idea."

There was a tinkling of glass overhead. One of Delgan's men looked up and screamed a moment before a blur of blades and crimson crashed down atop him. The man was already a shattered ruin before legs like razors came up and descended in a hideous spray of blood and viscera.

Another crash, and another. One of the victims managed to unleash a burst of explosive rounds as the Silhouette trooper descended like a hungry spider. Ripples of screaming plasma blasted from the crimson cloth billowing about its body. They did nothing but set the carpet alight as the man's arm span away from his body, finger still clenching to the trigger. Patrons scattered wailing.

Delgan screamed something without words, and unleashed his own weapon at the Expositor. Fire and sizzling exhaust streams spat fruitlessly at air about him, like a cloak of flames.

"Stop."

The weapon choked and shook. After a moment Delgan cursed and threw it to the ground. Blood welled from wounds on his hands. On the floor, his gun flexed and spread new-grown spines. It looked suddenly hungry.

"No wonder they wanted to get the military out of the way. You hopeless lot wouldn't last a minute against any competent force."

"Four and the Eye," shrieked Delgan, staggering backwards. The sound of spinning blades echoed out of the vault, screams cut off short. "What are you doing?"

"I'm making an example for your eager little masters." The Expositor raised his cane. "I want you to carry it."

"I'm not taking crap from you," panted the operative, his altered brain frantically straining for options.

"No, of course not. What sort of message would it be if you were alive to deliver it?"

"Wait-"

His voice cut off. He struggled to look down, only to see his own bleeding hands clamped around his throat.

"Nngh," he said, as his thumbs pressed tighter into his trachea against a slick of his own blood.

Niva's eyes never left Delgan's, even when they rolled back behind the operative's safety goggles and he slumped swollen-tongued in his own dead embrace.

A pair of troopers scuttled past on bloody blades. They paused to pour a volley of stun rounds into the lifter's interior. Outside, awful red beams pulsed and shattered a heavy lifter attempting to make a getaway.

"Tell this to your masters who would play such dangerous games," hissed the Expositor.

"The Imperium is not a toy."


	10. Prisoners

_Disclaimer: All Warhammer 40,000 and Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha concepts belong to their respective owners. No challenge is intended._

* * *

**10: Prisoners**

* * *

The park at the bottom of Eifast's shaft was tilted at an appreciable angle. Ponds and fountains drained across the landscape. Lance could see a tree fallen in the distance, roots grasping at air, a river of mud pooling in the crater.

The longer this went on, the worse things would become.

Kamath stood in the central plaza, shields flickering yellow. Mask stood behind her, weapon at the ready. The other two Tertiaries were nowhere to be seen. It was an ambush, of course. The marines were probably hiding somewhere in the endless rings of stories climbing the shaft around them. It was almost reassuring; there was nothing subtle about the situation, no opportunity for further deceit.

Vivo was sitting below a statue leaning askance as it reached to the sky. His captors had clipped a collar around his neck and chained him to the statue's legs. Lance noted that he was clutching the sphere of Sacred Heart as though it were a toy. The kid showed good thinking.

Behind an arch on the parkland verge, Atlas revved his gauntlet engines. "One minute to deadline. You ready for this?"

"I've got my peekaboo charged. If we can't buy time with talk, I'm ready to get them properly confused. You have One-Eye?"

"Yeah, yeah I think so. Bastard's big. He'll throw me off balance if I hold him wrong." The big man was dwarfed by the unconscious monster astartes thrown over his shoulder. Atlas shifted his balance. "Doesn't matter how strong I am, if I don't get leverage he's taking me down in his sleep. Literally."

"Maybe you should drag him. Kamath's smart enough to plan around your strength if you show it off. Do we have time to find a cart?"

"Nah, this is fine. I'm using Mach Caliber to take the weight – I won't kick in the Numen unless we need to start kicking ass."

"Right. Remember, leave the talking to me. We're going in."

The pair stepped out of hiding. A broad marble path led to the central plaza. Cover was no good at this stage – they wanted to be seen, to put the Tertiaries at ease.

"That's close enough," rumbled the Plus-Knight as they entered the plaza. "Where are the rest of you?"

Lance put up his hands, showing Cross Mirage in pistol form safely holstered at his sides. "I don't understand you," he said clearly. "Allow my computer to run a translation."

This was their first ruse to buy time. Kamath spoke a dialect that had been dead for millennia. The squadmates had assimilated the language from their Intelligences, thanks to smart spell templates. But the longer they could draw it out, the more time they had for the cruise titans to complete their ritual and bring reinforcements through the shield.

Cross Mirage beeped and intoned, "_Please restate your message._" The Intelligence was doing its best impression of a computer from the legend-reels of the 58th millennium. It seemed to be amused.

Kamath growled. "I have no patience for games. Your child negotiated in my language when we threatened the civilians. I know you can speak words I understand."

"I'm sorry," said Vivo from behind her. "I didn't think."

"Speak in my language," said the Plus-Knight, "or I shoot somebody."

"Say you're sorry, Vivo," said Atlas in the ancient dialect. "It's alright, you didn't know."

"Enough." Kamath levelled her weapon. It was configured for hornet mode. "You, the black-haired one. Is my man Twelve alive?"

Atlas hefted One-Eye's considerable mass. "Yes, but he has broken bones."

"Those will heal. Bring him forward and place him halfway to my position. If you try anything, we will shoot you. Twelve was prepared to sacrifice his life and we will not hesitate to grant his desire."

Atlas edged forward. Mask idly strolled to one side of the paved area, increasing the angle between him and Kamath. Atlas glanced around at the balconies ringing the park; there was a good chance that he was giving the missing two Tertiaries a clear line of sight. He tagged likely positions on the battle link. Knowing Kamath they'd be out of the likeliest areas, but second-guessing beyond that was fruitless.

"Good. Now remove your weapon and throw it into that stream."

He complied, stripping the heavy metal gauntlet with some difficulty. It hadn't been designed to be removed; the device materialised already wrapped around his arm. He felt a momentary pang at separation from his companion, but it was necessary.

"There are only two of you? I find it difficult to believe such tiny creatures could have taken out one of my men, even wounded as he was. This suggests subterfuge. I do not intend to take any chances. Now, the red haired one – throw your computer-gun into that bush."

Lance held up his hands. "Before I do so, you must know that you are being used. Your orders do not come from the Imperium, and we believe-"

"Be silent." Kamath took a step forward. "I've heard all this before. We are the Emperor's faithful servants. It matters not who sits upon that Throne, nor the foreign age in which we find ourselves. We sacrificed our very lives to the Emperor's ideal, a strike force advancing through time itself. Don't think you can turn us aside with a few words. We have no doubt left in us."

"I don't doubt you received all the correct codes." Lance stepped forward in turn. The plaza narrowed between them. "But they're ancient history today. Schoolchildren could find those codes in the Library! And they ordered you to take this building. Did you ever ask yourself why?"

"My life is the Emperor's to use," said the giant astartes. "Your gun, now."

"You have no objective," continued Lance. "You're a distraction being used by a petty criminal gang. Your ship, your crew – all died for nothing."

Kamath roared and brought her weapon forward.

Lance vanished.

A volley of stun rounds flashed from a second-storey balcony. Paving stones blew into the air; rounds sparked harmlessly from Kamath's shield-armour.

"An illusionist!" She went to one knee, released a volley of green hornet rounds into the building's facade. Green bolts slammed against the balcony from a position on the seventh level, and a copse of trees in the park itself. "Six – kill the soldier! Eight, Twenty, reduce the sniper nest to rubble!"

Mask levelled his weapon on Atlas. The black-haired man was unarmed and out in the open.

But he'd been waiting for this.

As the first rounds lashed out, he was accelerating into a crouch, force fields pushing him across the plaza. "Eifast, the doors! Vivo – be a good boy!" He pushed up and put his shoulder into Mask's solar plexus, sending the pair toppling head over heels into the gardens.

"Yes sir," said the building, and shutters crashed down around the Tertius on the seventh story. That would keep one of them out of the fight for a few minutes. Three against two, but the two had a kid on their side.

Atlas had to get Mask away from Kamath. The plan called for maximum confusion. He got his knee into the Tertius' stomach and rolled. Dirt and foliage sparked and flashed from the yellow shield-armour. The listing building made the plazas and avenues of the parkland one long downhill surface, and before Mask could regain his bearings they had rolled over a parapet and into a shallow pebble-lined stream.

"Bad move," whispered the silver-faced creature. "You move fast, but without your weapon, you're no match for me. Twelve will thank me later."

He brought his weapon around in sword form. Atlas threw himself down and rolled on fields cushioned by the surface of the stream. Mask followed wordlessly, massive armour boots throwing up sheets of spray as he wove the green-eyed blade in the forms of some ancient sword art.

Atlas couldn't help noticing the water droplets splashed to the surface in perfect rows. Weird coincidences tended to boil out of the Warp when psykers clashed. Then the blade parted the stream by his head in a howl of steam, and he had to scramble.

The barrage from the second story had stopped. Kamath gestured at the nearby trees. "Twenty, eyes on shooter. Did we get him?"

A jetpack coughed in the copse. Topless rose above the branches.

That was enough for Lance.

He dropped the invisibility as he ran the last few paces. It hadn't been an illusion. He'd been right there the whole time, walking right up to the enemy. The decoy shooter spell was proving useful today.

Cross Mirage put a spell-line onto Topless as she arced across the park. It wrapped twice around her leg and lifted Lance from the ground. The Tertius jerked in the sky under the sudden weight and looked down in panic.

"Catalyst chain!" Lance's other pistol spat a tangle of spell energy at her weapon. It worked – green fire flashed and burst inside the enchantment. Cursing, the astartes jetted higher, kicking her legs in an attempt to shake off the attacker.

Kamath looked from one side to another. Mask had vanished behind an ornamental bridge slanted over an empty stream bed. Topless was rising rapidly, Lance dangling dangerously below her. "Twenty, hold still!" The airborne investigator converted his pistol to a vicious twin-ended amber energy blade and prepared to stab at her boots. "I'll shoot the ant off you." Her weapon folded into beam mode.

"No you won't," said a small voice behind her.

"Silence, child," growled the commander. "Your guardians have failed. You're alive only because I need to shoot your friends first."

"I won't let you."

Kamath growled in exasperation and spun around. "Very well, if you will not cooperate, I have no choice but... to..."

The child's toy ball hovered above his head, emitting a golden light. He stood legs apart, arms in a fighting guard. He barely reached her knee, he was chained to solid stone by his neck, but his eyes blazed with a terrible light.

"Sacred Heart, set up!"

Golden fire filled her vision.

Kamath slammed a boot into the pavement. She refused to be driven back by the raw psyker power cascading around her.

The fire spiralled and condensed. It wrapped itself around the form of the boy and knitted into luminous bones, glowing muscles, a mane of majestic golden hair. Plates of gold boiled out of the air and bound to his limbs. A thousand runes and eagle talismans etched themselves upon the armour all at once.

Vivo looked _down_ at Kamath. He loomed over her three-metre frame like a parent confronting an errant child.

"You're not going to touch my friends."

"By the Emperor," stammered the commander. Her unshakeable faith was built on the sturdiest of foundations – but she was not prepared for those foundations themselves to stir and walk.

"No," said the demigod in a voice like an orchestra. "The Project made me an echo of His genome, but I am my own person.

"My name is Vivo Urban. Stop fighting.

"Now."

Kamath gaped for a moment. Then she threw her head back and howled at the heights of Eifast Stratoblock.

"Never! I will fulfil my orders, or die trying!

"Come, blasphemous clone! Stop me if you can, for I will never surrender!"


	11. Numina

_Disclaimer: All Warhammer 40,000 and Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha concepts belong to their respective owners. No challenge is intended._

* * *

**11: Numina**

* * *

Atlas went over the waterfall backwards. Mask came with him in a cape of hissing steam, sword outstretched. But the Tertius shield-armour didn't have the flexibility of his opponent's fields. The yellow figure crashed into an artful rock arrangement below the falls. Atlas fed the water into his fields and jetted out, skidding to a halt atop the lake.

The impact hadn't rattled the monster. He stalked out of the waterfall, spilling rivulets of boiling water from his shoulders and chest. "You are a canny foe," whispered the silver mask. "I almost wish you had retained your weapon, that we might battle on more even terms. I am eager to test the arm that felled my battle-brother."

Atlas laughed. "You actually think I disarmed?" He skipped back. The draining lake was only waist deep on the Tertius, and his massive muscles parted the water effortlessly, but Atlas would take any advantage he could get. "The knuckles are my sidearm. _This_ is my weapon."

The field emitters in his boot flared. He flashed across the surface of the water, banked off a force field, and put his knee into the back of Mask's head. The helm fields spat yellow sparks into the water. The Tertius cursed and spun, but Atlas was away across the water, weaving between mooring posts and gondolas abandoned in the evacuation.

"Very clever, but it will avail you little without the strength to pierce my defences. And I promise you, I have no such weakness!" The green-eyed blade whipped out and pared a gondola in half in a shower of green embers. "The first mistake you make will be your last. Run while you can."

Atlas decided against another rebound attack. The water gave him a speed advantage and kept the Tertius from using his full height, but without the knuckles he couldn't use his offensive spells to full effect. He'd have to do things the old-fashioned way, and that meant he needed solid ground for maximum leverage.

A flash of white in the waves alerted him, and he jinked sideways as a gondola smashed into splinters in front of him. The Tertius was actually throwing boats at him. Was Mask enjoying this?

His mistake.

In the distance, Lance flew by beneath a struggling Tertius. Golden light burned over a hill. Atlas grinned. Vivo was in the fight. Cleave Reno had made a terrible mistake picking him out as a potential hostage.

The lake was draining into a parking lot. The paving was dangerously slick, but it would give leverage. Atlas slalomed towards it.

Where was the Tertius?

Just before the shore, Mask burst out of the water, sword rising into Atlas' gut. _Damn_. Those jetpacks must double as aquajets. This was going to be uncomfortable.

The blow ran from hip to shoulder. Shields shattered and the sword plowed into his robes, throwing him high into the air. He crashed bodily into the windscreen of an abandoned aircar, sheared through the door well, and tumbled to a halt face down in the middle of the parking lot amidst a shower of glass and flight instruments and green sparks. A steering wheel bounced past his head.

"Unexpected," hissed the Tertius as it strode down the incline towards him. "The technology of this age must be fragile indeed if one little man can shatter it so impressively."

Atlas put a fist to the pavement and pushed experimentally.

"Ah, still alive. The water must have slowed me more than I thought – you should have landed in two pieces. Still, you won't last long with a wound like that. Let me put you out of your misery."

The green-eyed blade folded back along his arm. He reached under a nearby aircar, secured his grip, and heaved the entire vehicle over his head. "At least it's got some heft to it. I'll make this quick."

The aircar took to the skies and came down blaring alarms.

It didn't touch the ground.

Atlas was on one knee, one fist to the pavement. His other hand grasped the aircar's chassis, fingers crumpling the metal. He held the vehicle overhead one handed.

"Looks like your weapons are no match for modern armour," he said, and rose to his feet in a swirl of white robes. Fields unfolded across the pavement. Blue fire rose about his feet. "Your turn." He tossed the car overhand.

Mask brought his weapon up and blasted the vehicle apart in a screaming column of green flame. He was already moving when Atlas burst out of the explosion shoulder-first. The Tertius learned quickly, but sometimes that wasn't good enough.

Mechanisms whined. Fields gripped the pavement. Atlas straightened and put his fist into the silver mask.

The parking lot jumped and caved in. Atlas rose a meter off the ground. Mask went his own impressive height into the air before crashing back into the rubble settling a storey below, shields reduced to yellow sparks. He rolled and came to his feet as Atlas kicked off a fallen aircar and rocketed towards him.

The Tertius caught his fist and held it in a mighty gauntlet, then looked down in what might have been alarm. He was forced back, one step, then two. He lowered his shoulders and planted his boots in the rubble. The jetpack flared. It didn't help. Atlas was pushing him back one-handed.

"Impossible," he whispered. He aimed his weapon across his torso. Atlas twisted and sent him arch-backed to his knees; the shot went wild. "The strength of the astartes is unmatched! What sort of daemon are you?"

Blue flame spat from Atlas' eyes. "Haven't you noticed? Haven't you wondered why I've got language files for historical astartes? Didn't you wonder when I caved in a car's engine with my own weight?

"Astartes development didn't end with you, not by a long shot. My brothers and I are a bleeding-edge model. I'm heavier than you. I'm stronger than you. I'm faster than you." He pushed the Tertius to the ground. "Say hello to the Numen Astartes."

Mask tried to roll away, but Atlas was over him again. His bare fists blurred. The Tertius bucked, limbs contorting as blow after blow smashed into his ribcage. The shield shattered. The ground below him shook. Silver metal buckled and split.

The floor gave way again, and the pair crashed into a sub-basement in a shower of gravel and spitting cables.

Atlas rose to his feet, brushing dust and mud from his robe. The armour cloth was self-cleaning already.

Mask didn't move.

"I'm going to need a second lunch after all that," sighed the big man. The blue fire flickered out.

The crater was starting to fill with water and mud. Atlas grabbed Mask by his fizzling gorget, kicked aside a slab of fallen road, and dragged him to the nearest stairwell.

"Ow," said the building. "That really hurt!"

"Sorry. You're doing great, Eifast. I'm proud of you."

The rainbows in the walls swirled bashfully.

"I've got to stash this guy some place safe – he'll be a witness in the investigation. Any suggestions?"

The building was silent.

"Eifast?"

The world erupted in green fire.

Atlas recovered his senses rolling down a steep incline. A tilted gravity elevator shaft, he realised, and flailed desperately for a handhold. His fingers caught a prominence and he gripped for all he was worth.

His robe was gone. His black singlet was in tatters. His left arm had been badly gashed; he could see artificial muscle fibres gleaming below his skin.

Jetpacks howled. Before he could react, green chains unfolded around him, pinning the wounded arm to one side. Another coil wrapped his gripping hand and pulled him dangling into the middle of the shaft.

Kamath hovered above him. Left-Hand was rising up the shaft, weapon trained on his head.

They'd shot him, he realised fuzzily. Two of those building-piercing green beams from different directions. Maybe that had saved his life. The force of the combined blast had pushed him out of the intersection of the beams, through a couple of walls and into the elevator shaft.

"Divide and conquer," said the commander. He noticed that one of her shoulder plates had been reduced to a sparking mess. "An effective tactic. You're powerful enough to win one-on-one. And even I can't take that golden monster alone." She shuddered. "But it leaves you vulnerable if your opponent brought reserves. Which I did."

Atlas thrashed, but the chains were a proper binding spell. The raw force of Kamath's mind was enough to hold him indefinitely.

"Seismic tracking led us right to you. Such strength is a liability when you're trying to hide."

"He's taken down two of our men," said Left-Hand. "Do we kill him?"

"No. He's helpless now – my binding magic is strong enough to keep him from causing any further trouble, and our jammers are keeping the building off our backs. These people may be devious, may have mastered weird technologies, but they still respect their comrades. I may be able to hold off the – the clone with a hostage." There was a wild look in her eye. Atlas almost laughed. The kid had Kamath running scared. "Check on Six, see if he's still alive."

"Yes sir," said Left-Hand, and ascended with a roar to the gaping rent whence Atlas had entered the shaft.

"_Now would be a good time for support,_" sent Atlas.

"_We're having some difficulty finalising the ritual._" Was Vitus ever not annoyed by something? "_The shield locus keeps moving._"

"_Probably Kamath herself. She's got me in a bind spell – like the stuff Sapphire and Eunos throw around. She must be a heck of a shield mage._"

"_Understood. We'll be there ASAP. The kid will help you out in the meantime._"

"Ha," said Atlas out loud. Kamath looked down.

Above her, Left-Hand slammed out of the rent, ricocheted up off the walls of the shaft twice, and accelerated upside-down towards the commander. The jetpack put him into a spiral. Kamath flattened herself against the shaft wall. The Tertius scraped sparks and shards of glass past Atlas, and vanished below still flailing for control.

"No, no, no," growled the commander. She gunned her jetpack up, but came to a halt just as quickly when a great golden hand reached out into the shaft.

Atlas was used to the kid's keyform. He'd watched Vivo training with his Numen brother Nove back home, even sparred a little with the lad himself. But the war body was a psionic construct beyond all but the most talented magi, terrifying in its potency. Little wonder the ancient Emperor had used it on the battlefield. Little wonder that the Project had been so proud and so afraid of their clone.

Vivo heaved his whole body into the elevator shaft. He braced his knees against either side. The hulking war body filled the entire shaft, blocking the ascent.

Kamath howled and dropped, whipping Atlas behind her like a toy. She ducked into a lower opening, down a hallway, and didn't cut the jets until she reached a corner, planting her feet in the wall in a shower of masonry to brake.

Behind, the golden giant dropped three stories and caught the rim of the elevator door. Atlas caught a glimpse of the clone climbing into the corridor as Kamath tossed him over one shoulder and made for the stairs at a run. She wasn't going to do battle in an enclosed space so easily controlled.

There was a scream of hornets biting air and stone below. Left-Hand must have regained control of his jetpack. Not that it did him much good; staccato bursts of golden light flashed up the stairwell, followed by the clatter of falling glass and masonry. Moments later the stairwell shook far below Kamath's pounding feet.

"_I'm coming, Atlas._"


	12. Titans

_Disclaimer: All Warhammer 40,000 and Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha concepts belong to their respective owners. No challenge is intended._

* * *

**12: Titans**

* * *

The commander burst from the stairs into an open-air pagoda in the middle of the park. She took to the air almost immediately, letting Atlas hang by the spell chain. Topless dropped down beside her. Atlas winced; he didn't like being carried by a single arm.

"Tell me you killed that trickster with the guns."

Topless shook her head. "I ejected my left boot, but he landed in the trees behind us. What's the plan, what are we doing? Where are the others?"

"We're all that's left. These monsters are proving to be a real challenge." Kamath seemed on the verge of saying something more, but decided against it. "We have one hostage. I'm going to negotiate with that thing, test its resolve. Worst case, we kill this cyborg and try to do enough damage that they won't forget us for a thousand years."

Topless nodded mutely.

Atlas strained against the binding. That didn't sound good. But at least his legs were free.

They set down in an open field under the tower's vast scenic window. The surface of the park was beginning to sag with the tower's growing tilt; mats of grass had torn loose and pulled away from the bare soil below. There would be a risk of landslides very soon now. Another tree toppled in the distance.

"You don't have to do this," said Atlas from Kamath's feet. She'd chained his arm to his side. "Lance was telling the truth. This is just a greedy merchant's game."

"Lies," said the Plus-Knight without looking. A cloud of dust had burst from the distant pagoda. Vivo sometimes had trouble with tight stairs in his war body.

"Let me guess. You came in at the bottom of the tower because your orders told you to stay away from the penthouse – a priority command, am I right? Protect Merto Reno with your life?"

"I don't know who that is," said Kamath distantly.

"No, I suppose he wouldn't have told you that. You're a better alibi if you have no idea who you're working for."

"An amusing fantasy. Be silent, the blasphemy approaches."

Vivo dropped out of the sky and hovered at the edge of the field. His golden hair streamed upward. At his level of talent, he didn't need a jetpack to fly.

"No further, monster, or your friend's death is on your hands!"

Vivo halted. "Are you alright, Atlas?"

"Nothing a visit to the machine shop won't fix. Don't worry about me, I can stand on my own feet."

The demigod nodded in understanding. "Good. Lance will be happy to get you back."

"You think anybody will live through this?" Kamath laughed bitterly. "Only if you do exactly as I say will you get your friend back!" She yanked the chains and pulled Atlas to his feet.

"_Ready?_" said a voice in the big man's head.

"As I'll ever be."

"Reinforcements by air travel, at your service!"

Lance ducked out of invisibility and slashed the chains connecting Atlas to Kamath with his energy blade.

The Plus-Knight was quick. She pivoted and slashed at her hostage with a green-eyed blade.

Atlas put his armoured foot over his head and caught the blow on Mach Caliber's heel. The dynamos of the Intelligence whined and charged fields; he flipped backwards, bounced off his hands, and came to his feet beside Lance in a defensive stance.

At the same time, Vivo gave a war cry and charged forward. Topless levelled her blaster at the weaponless giant.

The ground below her feet exploded in gold fire, tossing her into the air.

Another explosion caught her from behind, smashing her back to the grass.

A third flipped her backward in a cartwheel of flailing limbs.

Yet another reversed her velocity, and she looked up in confusion and horror as she tumbled through the air to see Vivo's hand filling her view.

"Tactical weapon release! Divine blaster!"

The Tertius shot into the heights of the building on a column of golden light. The last shards of her armour blew away in shattered pieces. For an instant she hung in a corona of smoke a dozen storeys above the park, then her body began a slow tumble to the sward.

Vivo caught her in mid-air. His mane billowed around him with the wind of his flight.

"Stay back! Don't come near me!" Kamath twisted back and forth between the descending demigod and the squadmates in defensive posture. "I am Plus-Knight Kamath, a-and I am a loyal servant of the Emperor! My life will be avenged!" She screamed a long, low howl of confusion.

Abruptly she sat down on the grass. "My shield?" she said quietly. "What happened to my shield?"

"Retracting window," said the building from a thousand points along its central shaft.

In a flicker of photovoltaic spots, the mighty window of Eifast folded away.

Through the aperture descended a silver-and-black titan on wings of green lightning. Black horns jutted from its head; teeth bared in a mechanical snarl. Feet the size of tanks sank into the sward; a single knee touched the parkland, the shin alone extending halfway across the central shaft.

_Swift Emancipation_ had finally arrived.

The cruise titan was eighty metres of interstellar death. Its positron cannons could eliminate all life on a continent in the time it took to speak a sentence. Its tulpaonics granted its intelligence the raw psychic might to fly with a thought.

The inhuman silver face dipped lower, green eyes focusing on Kamath. The Tertius backpedalled across the grass.

"You who would threaten my wards," said the war machine in a voice that toppled unsteady trees. "Prepare to meet your punishment."

Like the shadow of a remorseless eclipse, its hand descended upon the field.

Kamath looked at her green-eyed blade, then at the silver fingers arching down about her.

She lowered the weapon and bowed her head.

"End it," she whispered. "What use is my drop of fury in such an ocean?"

Steely fingers clenched towards a palm the size of a small house.

There was a moment of silence marred only by the howl of wind over the desert.

"What is this?" thundered _Swift Emancipation_.

The Plus-Knight looked up, expecting to see a wall of metal ready to crush the life from her body. Instead she saw a broad golden back shining gently between the two fiery eyes of the cruise titan. The giant stood within the titan's grip and stared into its eyes.

"I won't let you hurt her any more," said Vivo.

The war machine leaned forward. "Try not my patience, anointed child. Others brought war to this place. I will _end_ it."

"You already have." The boy turned slightly. She saw he still cradled the female Tertius in his gold-sheathed arms. "Isn't that right, Kamath? You're not going to fight any more."

Another figure descended beside him, a red-bearded astartes in swirling crimson robes bearing a mighty warhammer. "Drop your weapon, Plus-Knight. You're not up against rookies any more."

"Hey," said Lance in the distance.

"When you've lived through the fall of the First Empire and fought in the Siege of the Eye, I won't call you a rookie," said Vitus. "Well, soldier? Are you going to come quietly?"

Kamath reached up and, one by one, undid the clips that held her weapon to her forearm. It thudded to the ground. Her red skin was pale below the mount, marked with huge white calluses and scales. She had borne the weapon's weight for so long it was almost a part of her, and she shifted her weight uncomfortably from foot to foot.

With a seismic rumble, the cruise titan pulled its hand away. "She had better behave, commander," it thundered.

"You will, right?" said the golden child. There was a terrible aspect to his brow, to the level gaze that reached down to her. She looked for hate and found nothing. He truly believed what he was saying, and that was most terrible of all.

"What choice do I have?" she whispered. "You have me beaten. Your power is too far beyond my own. I cannot even give my life in a last stand which my foes will regret for a hundred centuries."

"That's not true. It's always sad when somebody dies. Even if it was just you, I'd still be sorry."

"Shut up!" she screamed, and fell to her knees. "You're not the First Emperor! How can you beat loyal servants of the Imperium? Don't you see how you hurt me just by being?

"Doesn't righteousness bring strength? Wasn't I faithful? Didn't I give everything for the Emperor, my life, my faith, my very age? N-no! None of that mattered!

"You win because you have power! Not righteousness, not any blessing, just raw strength!

"What kind of cosmos is this, where p-power is the only law? What meaning does the Emperor have then? Does righteousness even exist?

"I've w-wasted _everything!_"

Vivo knelt beside her and gently set the unconscious Tertius on the grass.

"No you haven't," he said. "Just ask your friends."

Kamath looked up at him. "What?"

"They fought for you. I don't know you very well, Kamath, but your friends do. And they fought for you, even when they knew they couldn't win. Isn't that good enough?"

The Tertius made a noise. "They were soldiers. They followed the cause of the Emperor."

Vitus laughed. "Kid, ain't a soldier alive who would do all that for an unworthy leader. I hate to say this to an enemy, but you don't need to borrow righteousness. You've got enough of your own."

Vivo looked up at the red-bearded astartes. "Why'd you call her that?"

"What, kid?" A look crossed Vitus' face. "Plus-Knight, how old are you?"

"I have fought in four planetary campaigns, crossed uncounted centuries, risen to command my cadre. I-"

"No, no. How old?"

"S-seventeen," said the Tertius.

"See? Kids and rookies, everywhere," said Vitus. "Now come quietly. If I'm lucky you'll be talking for days before Expositor Niva gets to you. The ultramedics want to check over your troops, and I want a debrief on this whole fiasco."

She looked at him, startled.

"Yes, your subordinates will be fine. You somehow managed to stage an invasion with zero deaths on either side, even when you had access to civilian shelters and a whole string of hostages. I could do with more enemies of your calibre."

"D-does that mean-"

"No." The grim astartes met her eyes. "Your vessel was completely destroyed. There were no survivors. I gave the order. I won't insult your followers by apologising. But I will tell you this.

"I'm going after Merto Reno, the man who forged your orders. He's not getting away."


	13. Freedom

_Disclaimer: All Warhammer 40,000 and Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha concepts belong to their respective owners. No challenge is intended._

* * *

**13: Freedom**

* * *

Landscaping robots were already crawling across the righted park, replanting trees and hosing down the dried mud on the paving stones. It was good to see it go; it had dried in unsettling patterns as Warp energy dissipated after battle.

Gian sat with Vivo, now an unassuming youth once more. They were back on the museum-balcony where they had stood when the crisis erupted.

"Are you sure you're all right? I thought I would die when those monsters broke into the shelter!"

Vivo smiled. "Yes, I'm fine. I was more worried about you, Gian. You were very brave to stand up to them, even when they were pointing guns at you. But I can look after myself. Next time, trust me a little more, alright?"

Gian laughed. "I hope there won't be a next time! I think I'll stick to spreadsheets and investment portfolios, thank you very much!"

"Boring," said Atlas, pulling up a chair. The big man had recovered his gauntlet, and rebuilt his singlet in the process of storing the weapons in his aura. Ultramedics had sprayed fresh skin onto his wounded arm and promptly discharged him. They claimed it was because of the rapid healing abilities of the Numina Astartes, but sometimes he thought they were jealous.

"Boring? From what I hear, you ran an offworld audit and discovered the ringleader of the bank robbers right in the middle of a hostage crisis!"

"And it was boring. Did they catch the guy yet?" Atlas grinned. "I'd love to be there myself, but Vitus told me to sit down and stop bleeding on everything."

"Really," said Gian under her breath; but she waved her hand through her augmented reality aura and brought up the news feeds. "Eifast, show this stream on our wall."

Two great cruise titans hovered on psionic wings about the upper levels of Eifast Stratoblock. Streams of flight troopers and transports flew past, dwarfed by the vast war machines. The picture cut to an indoor perspective. Troops in black and purple jogged across a foyer, while engineers and civilians milled in confusion around the camera.

"I'm Bryn Jols," said the presenter. "As I'm sure you're aware, there was an accident at the Anchorage earlier today, followed by a full military deployment. I'm told that a number of Imperial soldiers escaped and attacked this very building, Eifast Stratoblock, but they have been subdued and are now being held aboard the Commonwealth navy vessels you see outside.

"Anchorage personnel, myself included, were evacuated pending an official investigation. We're now in the Cleave Reno penthouse at the top of Eifast, where rescue teams are opening the first emergency shelters. Let's see if we can get some words from the people who survived this dreadful ordeal!"

The camera jerked and moved towards the shimmering barrier of the shelter. "Cleave Reno constructed their own shelters using the same technology used in top-security bank vaults. They're absolutely secure, but I don't think it could be fun sitting inside, not knowing what's going on outside."

Vitus strode into camera, towering over the presenter. "Good, you're here, archaeologist. I want you to hand when we open the shelter." He turned away. "Perimeter check!"

"This is all very exciting," said Bryn. "That was Captain Vitus Gaddacht, one of the heroes of the Battle of the Astronomican, and it looks like he's in charge of this operation too!"

The military engineers flashed a hand signal and stood back. Siege shields warped and collapsed. Vault doors of silvery metal rolled one way and another. A series of bars retracted into floor and ceiling.

Merto Reno stepped out and gave a practised grin with just a hint of vulnerability. He wore well-tailored slacks in an imitation of worker's costume, under a more conventional long-hemmed mercantile jacket. His face was bronze and lean, just as perfectly tailored as his clothes, thought Atlas. But his eyes were flat. It wasn't surprising. The astartes had seen many such eyes, always smiling as they mouthed words of regret for accidents and preventable disasters.

"Another triumph for our noble protectors," said Reno with a magnanimous gesture. "On behalf of all employees of Cleave Reno, I would like to thank you for your hard work defending-"

"Move in," said Vitus. A team of battle-robed troops charged past the executive into the bunker, psi-halberds at the ready.

"What's going on?" said Bryn. Reno was saying something similar, anger flashing across his polished face.

Vitus grinned dangerously. Merto Reno was not a small man, but he was nowhere near the size of the astartes. "You're under arrest on charges of conspiracy to robbery, accessory to murder, forgery of archaeological records, impersonation of a foreign power, and a whole raft of treason."

"Impossible," said Reno, bringing his face back under control. "I am a victim as much as anybody in this unfortunate incident, and I have rights! You can't simply barge onto private property and – and start rifling through my property! I have a very important flight to catch, and I demand to speak with my legal counsel immediately."

"Oh, go ahead," said Vitus. "But this isn't a police action. This is a military response to a foreign incursion on Commonwealth soil. Until I'm personally satisfied that the military threat is ended, this whole area is under martial law. Your offices are being stripped right now as intelligence on enemy operations."

A trooper hurried out of the bunker with a device wrapped in stasis film. "Found this, sir. Looks like a syndicate pheromone hopper."

"Excellent. Programmed operatives, eh? Highly illegal. This could link you to some very unsavoury characters the Commonwealth has been chasing for years."

"Preposterous! I- I will say nothing further without my lawyer present."

Vitus bent down and put a hand under the executive's chin. "I am well within my rights to simply reach into your skull and pull out anything I want, little man," he growled. "But I find myself in a merciful mood today. Confess everything of your own volition, and we'll do our best to keep you from extradition."

"Extradition?" asked Bryn. She had noticed the troopers covering her and was staying very still.

"Oh yes. Somebody was issuing orders to Chaos Imperium troopers under false pretences. I can't imagine they're very happy with that right now, especially as the Imperium almost took the fall for this whole fiasco. Fortunately, Expositor Niva acquitted himself very well in stopping the bank robbers. He sent a personal message reporting the banking sector secure. Let me see..."

He conjured a video display in front of Reno, partially out of the camera's view. A red light filled the room. Bryn arched her head to see the feed, and jerked back with a gasp. Reno's bronzed face went pale.

"Thorough, isn't he? Now, you think about your options, and let me know when you want to talk.

"Take them away. And cut that stream."

The wall blanked.

"Wow," said Gian. "That's not going to do Cleave Reno stock prices any good."

"That's if the company survives at all," said Atlas. "Projections didn't look good."

"Well, no. There was some mismanagement of assets during the initial boom. But they employ thousands of people, and if the company went under it would undo months of our work at the Economic Integration Office. We were going to announce a relief package next week, but now I think we'll have to restructure the entire executive branch."

"Ha!" Atlas roared. "That greedy short-sighted bastard!"

"Shut your mouth," said Lance as he mounted the stairs to the balcony. "There are children present."

"Papa Destin told me I mustn't use bad words," said Vivo solemnly.

"Good boy," said the investigator. "Have some icecream." He set a carton and bowls down on the table.

"That is far too much for one boy," said Gian.

"But not for two." Lance cuffed Atlas on one bare shoulder. "Here, I bought you some of that syrup from the bar downstairs."

"I love you almost as much as I love icecream," said the big man solemnly.

Under the stern gaze of storm-winged titans, Eifast sailed on towards the evening sky.

* * *

**Afterword**

This is the second story to explore the 60K universe, after Angel of Chaos. Once again, my thanks to Brett Tamahori, without whose sage consultation the future history would be immeasurably poorer; and to the forums, who start me on such absurd ideas.

60K is my take on the far future of the already-far-future Warhammer 40,000 setting. A lot of things have changed. I've attempted to make them apparent through context.

One big change is in the nature of religion in the Imperium, now called the Chaos Imperium. In the grand scheme of things, long-dead Horus won; his followers have shepherded the Imperium for most of its history, ever since the First Emperor died atop the Golden Throne. The Empire of Man collapsed, but a new one took its place, relying on Chaos sorcerers to navigate the hazards of the Warp.

While the citizens of this new realm were naturally expected to worship the deities of Chaos, this did little to promote stability. The cult of the Emperor was revived to support new Emperors, and after twenty thousand years, the first Emperor is seen as just another of that line, a myth of unknown veracity. For this reason, the most faithful worshippers of the Emperor are now devout supporters of Chaos.

The Commonwealth was the primary driver of the Galactic Renaissance, an innovative culture that developed its own navigation systems and came to rival the Chaos Imperium. The two powers are constantly vying for control of the various Houses that make up galactic society. The world of Enjyat, part of the Realm Glorious under House Grelm, has recently passed from Imperial control to Commonwealth administration.

And thereby hangs a tale, as you have seen.

I had fun writing this story. I also had a five-month break in the middle, due to design school. But I'm glad that I had the time to reflect and refresh my attitude. Some of the characters really came alive in the last couple of days.

I had originally placed another chapter between 7 and 8, detailing Vivo inside the bunker and Kamath kidnapping him. It didn't flow well and risked blowing the Emperor reveal early, so I scrapped it. There were some interesting bits in there, though: Vivo considered a variety of methods for hacking the sensor feed so he could see how the battle was going. Combinatorial analysis was no good, because kilobyte-sized encryption keys would take even the supercomputers of the 61st millennium trillions of years to crack. So he considered using prophecy to pop it instantly, because he's a psyker and they can do that sort of thing. However, they have rules about it; prophecy tends to result in cataclysmic tragedy, so they avoid it as a matter of course.

Early in the process, Eifast was my favourite character. She's a flying skyscraper! How is that not an interesting cast member? There were all sorts of interesting aspects to the character. How did she relate to other people? Is it still real estate if it's self-aware? How did she see the world? The answers helped flesh out the world.

Later on, however, Kamath came to the fore. I'd originally intended her as an annoyingly competent antagonist who would be satisfying to beat down in the final act. But while I was hanging out my washing a couple of days ago, she started asking questions in my head. Was it fair for her to be so handily defeated? Was it really heroic to just drop a series of increasingly powerful protagonists on her? I didn't think so, and she addressed the point directly in the narrative.

Expositor Niva is a less wholesome character. He's on the side of the heroes in this story, and he was fun to write, but I'm pretty sure he's an out-and-out villain at heart. His methods are viscerally satisfying. They're even effective. But the higher you go in the Chaos hierarchy, the more corruption you encounter, and Niva is an influential man.

The true villain only appears in the last page or so, although he's active and alluded to throughout the story. There's another moment of visceral satisfaction there that I'd like to examine in a bit more detail, however. When Reno demands to see his lawyer, that's often narrative code for "weasel flees to safety". In reality, lawyers are the first line of defence for the general populace. We shouldn't be rooting for Vitus to brush off his rights. That's perilously close to the judge-jury-executioner style that Expositor Niva employs. Vitus is justified in this case, as lawyers are not particularly relevant once your antics result in a full military engagement, but do consider the situation beyond its surface appearance.

As is usual for my 60K stories, most of the characters are gender-flipped from the cast of the Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha anime. This is still a K-verse story, however, and where differences occurred, Warhammer lore takes precedent.

Further notes on characters and linguistics:

Vivo Urban is based on Takamachi Vivio from StrikerS. In Nanoha, she's cloned from the Sankt Kaiser Olivie, an ancient and influential leader. As you're already aware, I interpreted that as the Emperor of Man. And really, if you're going to resurrect someone for your mad science schemes, why not go all the way? "Vivo" here is a reference to "in vivo," experimentation using a living organism. His early childhood was not kind. "Urban" is taken from his adoptive father Gigaron Urban (Takamachi Nanoha). The kanji for Takamachi appear to translate to "High Town", so "Urban" seemed like a good fit.

I also wanted to make a point about the Emperor through the story: the world has moved on. The Emperor is no longer the centre of the universe, if he ever was. The reaction of the galactic community to a new Emperor clone is less, "This marks a glorious and grim new era," and more, "What, again? Better keep an eye on it I guess." The "adult mode" that Vivo uses is modified from one of Vivio's techniques, but I'm also using it to stealth-address one of the problems some people have with 40K. Was the Emperor really twelve feet tall? Well, maybe not. He was definitely a powerful psyker, however. Perhaps the visage preserved by history was simply another tool of his ambitious and inventive mind. Perhaps not.

Atlas Solomon is based on Subaru Nakajima from StrikerS. In that series, she's a combat cyborg who trains under Nanoha. The logical equivalent was a new series of astartes ("space marines"), improved with 61st-millennium technology. And that suggested a whole series of other attempts stretching back through history. His name needed some massaging to fit. "Subaru" is the Japanese name for the Pleiades star cluster, the Seven Sisters, but that name didn't ring true. Fortunately the second brightest star in the cluster is named Atlas, and that fit perfectly. "Nakajima" appears to translate to "River Island" (although I am no expert on the multi-layered wordplay possible in Japanese), and by a complicated series of associations I decided that "insula" ("river" in Latin) sounded kinda like "Solomon" and it would do fine and I could stop now.

Lance Maxim is based on Teana Lanster from StrikerS. Although the original name was constructed Western-style, with family name last, I chose to reverse it anyway because Lance was a great first name. Because everybody in Nanoha is named after cars (true facts!), I looked up the Nissan Teana, and discovered it was exported under the name Maxima. And thus was born Lance Maxim, a man whose name was destined to become a detective. He doesn't crack the case this time, but he has his moments.

Expositor Niva is an original character. He is named after the Lada Niva, an off-road vehicle from Russia. He is accompanied by an extreme form of astartes developed in the Chaos Imperium called the Silhouette. These troops are named after the Lada 2116 Silhouette, a model of Russian family car which had not yet been released when the story was composed. That sounded suitable for a cutting-edge super soldier.

Gian Amber is an original character. Her name is a partial phonetic anagram of Lamborghini.

Vitus Gaddacht is based on Vita from A's. First seen in Angel of Chaos, Vitus is a former Chaos Marine turned to the Star Gods of the Commonwealth. I think a seven-foot-tall astartes is a perfect fit for the little red-haired girl from Nanoha. The name needed little modification. Vita is in some ways the closest daughter of Yagami Hayate, although she doesn't take the family name in regular continuity; nevertheless I've applied it here, translating "Yagami" as "Eight Gods", and then in old Warhammer tradition applying a bit of German to make the nonsense word "Gaddacht". We don't see Immer Gaddacht (Hayate) in this story, but he's around. I hope to introduce him soon.

Kamath is an original character. Her name is based on KamAZ, Kamskiy Avtomobilny Zavod, the Kama Automobile Plant in Russia which constructs heavy duty trucks and military vehicles. The rank of Plus-Knight is perhaps a little bit influenced by Warren Ellis' revision of the Kree in Ultimate Extinction from Marvel Comics. The Ladan Tertiaries are named in part after the Russian Lada company. Kamath's crew are addressed only by numbers or nicknames, but that appears to be the fate of many astartes: for example, the list of Atlas' thirteen Numina brothers includes such imaginative names as Uno, Quattro, and Nove.

Operatives Delgan and Bega are garbled combinations of the names of Greek letters. They're probably just callsigns, but who knows with those messed-up brains of theirs.

Swift Emancipation and Loyalty Earned are cruise titans, which look a little bit like the Evas from Neon Genesis Evangelion and sometimes act like them, too. They're self-aware machines with their own psyker powers. Unlike in NGE, the Commonwealth treats them as citizens. They usually take on mortal crew, and are often under the command of a captain, but they're not mere vehicles. Galactic society in this era has more than passing similarities to the Culture by Iain M. Banks, if the Culture was a feudal hereditary aristocracy caught in a war between ancient gods.

Merto Reno is an original character. His name is based on car manufacturer Renault, and a mangling of "Nissan": it doesn't actually translate this way, but "ni" and "san" could be taken as "two" and "mister", thus "Mr Two" or "Merto". Yes, it's dreadful. I have nothing to say in my defence.

I've dropped in the names of a few extra characters: Sapphire, Eunos, Destin. I have a whole file of them with notes on translation and K-verse integration, but they exist in a quantum flux state of constant revision until I publish them in a story.

Ultramedics are mentioned in a few places. The ultramedics are one of the oldest traditions in the galaxy. They're actually descended from the Ultramarine chapter of space marines. During the long galactic Dark Age, resources were scarce and the chapter had to choose between waging war and preserving the astartes creation process. They chose the latter, becoming surgeons and healers out of necessity. The modern ultramedic incorporates several upgrades on the original astartes design to further improve their surgical prowess. Taking the ultramedic upgrade is one possible career path for a skilled medical professional. Ultramedics have no formal combat training, viewing violence as an affront to their profession.

I hope you've enjoyed reading this far. As a reward, I'll let you in on a secret for the next 60K story I'm planning. It involves Immer Gaddacht, a trip to the opera, and the most powerful god in the galaxy – which happens to be descended from orks.


End file.
